From Cali to the Commonwealth
by omninerd90
Summary: Cass is in for the shock of her life when one minute she's falling asleep in her tiny LA apartment, and the next she's running for her life in the middle of the post-apocalyptic Commonwealth. Now she's stuck in the world of Fallout with no idea how she got there or how to get home, and she's going to need to make friends fast if she wants to survive. Hancock x Fem OC, slow burn.
1. Chapter 1

***I've always wanted to write a decent gamer-gets-transported-into-game fic, and after the idea for this character/ plot came up in a D &D sesh with some friends I decided to run with it. Also wanted to try writing a fic that deals with events following the destruction of the Institute, rather than rewriting the game's plot again. Hopefully everyone finds it as entertaining as I do =).***

* * *

Usually, when you hear someone say "I am _so_ fucked," it's kind of an exaggeration. Maybe they were late for work, maybe they missed paying a bill, maybe they pissed off their significant other one too many times. Hell, I've even said it before when I've been stuck in a long line at a Starbucks (though let's be real, a long wait at a coffee shop when you've yet to be caffeinated is on some level a personal crisis).

My point is, people have a tendency to think they're fucked in very non-critical situations. We're all a little over-dramatic that way. No matter what event prompts someone to make that particular statement, chances are that things are eventually going to even themselves out, and they'll end up alright on the other side.

But then, there were situations like mine. I was _spectacularly_ fucked.

Like, seriously. If getting fucked over was an Olympic event, I'd have easily taken home the gold.

The last thing I remembered before waking up was spending an hour or two after work playing on my Xbox. I've been an avid fan of RPG's for as long as I can remember, and my current addiction was Bethesda's new _Fallout 4_. I'd already completed the main questline, but true to the company's form, there were still plenty of side quests and lesser story arcs to keep me going. I made it through helping a few of my now-many settlements with their problems (seriously, could they take care of _nothing_ by themselves?) before my eyelids got too heavy to keep open.

I remembered snuggling into my mattress, and then… I was somewhere else. It wasn't like my bed suddenly became a teleportation device, and I popped up in the middle of fucking nowhere in my underwear and favorite fuzzy blanket. I was standing, dressed in clothing that I had never owned once in my life, and I was fully awake. I was aware and full of adrenaline, and had the vague notion that I'd been standing there for at least a few minutes. Dried grasses, a few dead trees, and rocks were all that surrounded me. It looked sort of like a forest… but one that had died long ago. Or certain parts of California in the summer heat.

And there was only one thought, repeating in my head like a broken record: _Run._

But run from what? And to where? I was so shell-shocked, for a moment all I could do was stand there, and try to process what happened. Was I dreaming? I pinched myself and winced when it hurt, but still wasn't convinced. Maybe my brain was just making me _think_ that it hurt.

Even though I couldn't remember how I had gotten there, I had the nagging feeling that this was… expected? Was that why I wasn't panicking?

No, that was probably shock. I was in shock. Which meant the panic would either set in soon, or my brain wouldn't be able to cope, and I'd die.

As I stood pondering what in the _fuck_ was happening, I couldn't help but feel that something else was off. I mean, apart from the fact that I had for all intents and purposes been magicked into some strange location, obviously. It took a second for me to identify what was bothering me, but then the lightbulb went off: it was too quiet. Like everything-is-holding-its-breath quiet. And past the quiet, the only sound I could hear was the faint rustling of yellowed grass or leaves coming from somewhere off to my left.

I turned my head towards the sound, and froze. About twenty or so yards away, I could see hunched canine forms, crouched low to the ground. They were totally hairless, which was weird… a little reminiscent of the hounds in _Resident Evil_ , actually, but somewhat less gruesome. Their eyes were fixed on me with a glittering, predatory focus.

For an absurd moment I thought of the dog-tribute hybrids in _The Hunger Games_ , but these weren't supernaturally enhanced canines designed to look like dead kids. They were just bald, far too skinny, and watching me a little too intently for my comfort.

There were three of them. When they noticed me looking their way, they began to growl in low, threatening tones.

 _Shit_. My heart jumped into overdrive. I had no idea where I was, and I was unarmed. Or at least, I was assuming I was unarmed. I wasn't holding any weapons, and couldn't feel anything obvious in my pockets. How was I supposed to fight off three wild dogs? Also why in the _fuck_ was I anywhere near where these mangy mutts might call home?

Very slowly, I took a step back... and swore internally when the dogs took a step forward. Another step back, and they moved closer again. They were hunting, and clearly they thought they had just hit the jackpot.

 _Run run run run RUN!_

I bolted. I didn't know where my legs were carrying me, but letting those things reach me was _not_ an option. I sprinted through the brush and vaulted over fallen logs and rocks like I'd been a track star in a past life. Which definitely was not the case, by the way. I had barely gone a hundred yards and my muscles were already burning. I knew I couldn't outrun the dogs forever, but if I could find a place to hide or _something_ …

There! Up ahead, I spotted what looked like the remains of an old rec center. If the doors were still intact, I could lock myself inside and be safe… at least for the moment.

I summoned every last drop of energy and ran full-tilt towards the building. A sharp _crack_ echoed through the air; it startled me so bad that I lost my footing and tripped. When my body hit the ground I realized that had been a gunshot, and curled into as small a ball as I could manage as several more shots rang out. I heard a few high-pitched yips from the dog behind me, and then silence.

"She alright?" I heard a rough voice ask, some feet away.

"Hit the ground pretty hard, but she'll live," another voice replied, with some measure of humor.

Cautiously, I uncurled myself and looked up. Two men were talking in the doorway of the rec center; one of them was holding what looked like a hunting rifle of some kind. If they'd just saved me from those dogs, I figured they weren't out to kill me, too. Or so I hoped. I couldn't really take much for granted at the moment.

I got to my feet and walked forward. I couldn't help but look nervously back over my shoulder; I could see the corpses of the three wild dogs, with blood soaking the dirt around them. They each had been shot through the head, which was impressive. I don't think I knew anyone personally who could hit moving targets with that kind of accuracy. Hunting isn't really a thing for the residents of good old Los Angeles.

"Thank you for that," I said, as I approached the door. "Another few seconds and they probably would've…"

My voice died out as I turned back and saw the men up close. They were both horrifically scarred; I couldn't see an inch of their skin that wasn't twisted or warped. One of them- the one without the gun- even had black eyes. And I don't mean really dark brown; I mean they were _entirely_ black, no whites at all.

A revelation slammed into my brain with enough force to almost make me physically stumble. These looked dead-on like ghouls from the _Fallout_ universe… if the ghouls were actual physical people instead of animated characters, that is. Their skin had the same horrifying-burn-victim quality… though thankfully they didn't appear to be rotting or corpse-like, the way ghouls had been portrayed in previous installations of the game.

But that wasn't… _couldn't_ be possible. There was no way. _Fallout_ was a work of fiction; an extremely entertaining one, but a fiction nonetheless. I had to be dreaming because there was no feasible way to make a freaking video game into reality.

I'm not sure what I looked like, as I stood there shell-shocked and trying to comprehend the impossible thoughts that were demanding my attention. I'm sure it wasn't flattering. The man with the dark eyes was watching me with mild interest, but the one with the rifle twisted his face into a grimace.

"Look at her; think she'd never seen a ghoul before."

"Maybe she hasn't," the other man said. "A girl who doesn't know enough to walk the wastes with a gun hasn't been around much, is my guess. We're not exactly common in this area."

I felt my face go bloodless as they referred to themselves as ghouls. There was just no way. Stuff like this happened in sci-fi movies and in novels; it didn't happen to someone like me. _Especially_ someone like me.

"Where you from, sister?" the man- ghoul?- with the dark eyes asked me.

I tried to form words, but nothing was coming out. It felt like my brain was stuck on a loop- _no way no way no way no way_. I swayed as the world began to tilt, and I felt myself go lightheaded.

"Shit, she's gonna-"

And then everything went black.

* * *

 ***I've got a vague notion of where I want this fic to go, but honestly it's still pretty freeform at this point. I've been working on it whenever I get stuck with writer's block for my "Guns and Ghouls" series. It might end up being totally terrible but hopefully that's not the case 0_o.**

 **As always, any feedback, comments, or suggestions are always appreciated 3.***


	2. Chapter 2

If there were still parts of me that had been hoping that this situation was just some crazy dream, that notion was immediately shattered as soon as I began to regain consciousness. I knew right away that I wasn't in my own bed; the mattress I was sleeping on was thin, and didn't smell like me at all. The blanket covering me was a rough cotton that felt nothing like my pillowy duvet.

I could hear voices and movement around me, but nothing seemed hostile; it was all just background noise. I blinked open my eyes and narrowly stopped myself from recoiling when I saw the woman sitting next to me. Like the two men, she was also significantly scarred, though she had a full head of silver-gray hair. Another ghoul, if I was going to go along with this being a video game made reality. _Christ, am I really going to go along with this?_

The woman smiled at me when she saw I was awake, displaying a mouth full of yellowing teeth. But she looked friendly enough, so I shakily pushed myself upright and returned her grin with a meager one of my own.

"Good, you're awake," she said happily. Her voice had that same raspy quality that the two men's had; a commonplace trait for ghouls in the games, I recalled. "I'll have to tell Wiseman that you're up. He'll want to talk to you."

"Wiseman?" I tried not to react as the name brought information to the front of my brain. Wiseman was the leader of the Slog, a settlement that I- or my Sole Survivor- had helped get on its feet in the game. No wonder the building I was in looked so familiar…

 _I have lost my entire fucking mind._

The woman nodded in response to my question. "He's the one who runs our little pit stop here." I must have looked uneasy, because she added, "Don't worry. No one here's gonna hurt you. We may be ghouls, but we ain't monsters."

"Good to know." I stood up and stretched. "Lead the way, I guess." _Not like I really have another option._

She brought me out to the back of the rec center. There was a mostly-empty pool out there, with some more ghouls tending swampy plants in what was left of the water. Tarberries, if my memory served me. A few more settlers were tending regular crops off to the right. The woman led me over to the aforementioned Wiseman, who was sitting in the shade on a beat-up old lawn chair. Now that I had a name to put to his face, I could sort of recognize him from the game… just a little. It's one thing to know how someone looks in animated graphics, and quite another to look at a flesh-and-blood version.

"Our unexpected visitor is awake!" he exclaimed. "How you feeling?"

"I'll tell you when I know," I replied, nodding at the woman as she took off with a little wave. "Where exactly am I?"

I had decided, in the time it took to walk over from my bed, that it would be best to play dumb to everything. Hallucination/insane dream or no, I figured it wouldn't be a great idea to let these people in on the fact that I knew far more about them and their world than I should. And the assertion that their entire universe was just a game in my own would at best make them think I'm insane… and piss them off at worst.

"We call this the Slog," Wiseman said. He gestured to the chair beside him. "Why don't you take a load off for a few minutes?"

I accepted the seat, and tried not to stare too much at his face. "The Slog, huh?"

"Yep. Only tarberry farm of its kind. Hoping that pretty soon we can make this into a proper hub… a place where folk can come and rest, resupply, whatever they need. Show people that we ghouls aren't as bad as they make us out to be."

"Neat," I said, a little lamely. Probably not the answer he was looking for, but I wasn't in a place to be especially charming at the moment. "So where is this place? Like, in the world?"

Wiseman gave me a skeptical look, brows raised (or they would have been if he'd had any). "Uh… in the northern Commonwealth. Couple days' walk from Diamond City or Goodneighbor. You really _that_ lost, kid?"

I dropped my head into my hands and groaned. This was just too much. "I guess so."

"Not where you expected to be, huh?"

I snorted. "You can fucking say that again."

"Where you headed, then?"

I lifted my face and rubbed the back of my neck. "I didn't intend to be _headed_ anywhere. I just… showed up here. Fuck, I don't know." My brow pinched with concentration. "If I could just _remember_ …"

The gap in my brain hadn't improved with sleep. I still had a disconnect between going to bed in LA- the last thing I recalled- and showing up here. It was all like an awkward, too-quick transition between scenes in a movie.

"Amnesia, huh?" Wiseman asked sagely. "Yeah, I read about that in a book once I think, before they ran my ass outta Diamond City. Is there anything you do remember? Maybe that'll help."

I glanced over at him and shrugged. "Last thing I recall, I was going to sleep in my own bed… on the west coast, about 3000 miles away from here. It was… you ever been put under anesthesia?" He shook his head, and I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, I guess that's probably not a common thing anymore. Uh… well, it was like I just blinked my eyes, you know? And then I was here. Out in the fucking woods with nothing but the clothes on my back, and absolutely zero memory of what happened in between." I tugged at the sleeves of the flannel shirt I wore. "I don't know I got these clothes, or how long I've been out here. To be honest I'm not ruling out the possibility that I got a brain aneurysm while I was sleeping and this is all some crazy deathbed hallucination."

Wiseman watched me calmly; I got the feeling he was weighing whether or not to believe me. "If this _is_ a hallucination, you could've chosen better places to dream about."

I laughed a little shakily. "Could've been on a tropical beach somewhere, surrounded by half-naked men serving me alcohol and fruit. Damn."

He grinned suddenly, and his smile gave an unexpected warmth to his face. "Well, sister, you're welcome here as long as you need to stay. We've got food and water and beds, and could use an extra hand tending the tarberries. You ever shot a gun before?"

"Could never afford one back home, so no."

"Well, maybe we can convince Eddie to give you a few lessons. He's the ghoul who sniped those dogs out from under you earlier. He's a gruff son of a bitch but he's alright once you get to know him. Wouldn't mind having another guard on patrol around here."

I gave him a skeptical look. "Really? You'd trust me just like that?"

He met my eyes evenly. "There a reason why I shouldn't?"

"Well… no. But then there's that trusting-me piece again. How do you know I won't go nuts and like, try to harvest all your organs or something?"

"I saw the way you were running from those dogs, and it didn't exactly scream 'killer' at the time," he replied, amused. "I started the Slog as a refuge for ghouls who ain't welcome elsewhere, or who got nowhere else to go. Seems to me that you got nowhere else to go, so you should fit in just fine. We'll just overlook the ghoul part for now." His ebony eyes twinkled as he studied me. "And as for those murderous urges you're so worried about… you just let me know if they start acting up, and I'll have Eddie take you out back and shoot ya. Save us all a little trouble."

I couldn't help but laugh. "Alright, Wiseman. You've got yourself a deal."

* * *

"What the fuck is with this heat?"

I was complaining. Wiseman hadn't been joking about me lending a hand; there were no freeloaders at the Slog. My first day, after our conversation, consisted of showing me around. I got the lay of the land (which I already sorta knew from the game, but I wasn't going to cop to that), and got to meet everyone, which was somewhat less mortifying that I had anticipated. I'm not generally the first one to volunteer to make new friends, but all the ghouls seemed really chill. Well, except for Eddie, who was still convinced I was a useless smooth-skinned greenhorn. I might've been offended if he weren't 100% correct.

The next day, it was time to get to work. Wiseman had me start off learning how to tend the tarberry plants. The morning wasn't so bad, but once the sun got overhead I felt like I would die of heatstroke. You would think being almost waist-deep in water would've fought off the afternoon heat, but it was too shallow; the sun kept the water nice and warm. So I wasn't cooler, just hot _and_ soaked in what was basically swamp water.

When quitting time finally rolled around, I was worn out and grumpy enough to not care about much more than food and bed. I was hanging out with Wiseman as we ate (molerat stew, _yum_ ) and he was clearly getting a kick out of my distress.

"You wouldn't have felt it so much if you'd dress a little lighter," Wiseman replied to me, amusement behind his dark eyes.

I scoffed. "Yeah, _you_ might not be worried about skin cancer, but I'm not looking to die a slow, painful death at my age. Besides, I have investments to look after." I shed the flannel shirt I'd been wearing to pointedly display the ink on my arms. "Prolonged exposure to sunlight is lethal to tattoos, and I put too much money and time into these to let them fade to a blurry mess."

"It would be a shame to let all that go to waste," he agreed. "One of these days you'll have to tell me the story behind all of those."

I plopped down into the chair next to him. "That'll take forever and a day. Tell you what: if you're really that curious, I'll tell you the meaning behind one tat a day. That way I won't talk myself hoarse trying to cover them all at once."

"You got yourself a deal, Cassidy Mae."

I narrowed my eyes at him. "What did I say about calling me that?"

It was my fault, really. When he'd asked me for my name, I had stupidly rattled off the entire thing- Cassidy Mae Black- like I was on roll call in grade school or something. I'd tried to insist that he call me Cass, but he caught how irked I was when he used my full name and hadn't let it go since.

Before he could reply to my ire, Holly took the third chair around the coffee table. "Stop teasin' the new girl, Wiseman," she scolded him. "You don't want her turnin' that sharp tongue of hers on you. I heard her cussin' up a blue streak more than once today."

I shrugged, not really apologetically. "I've got a mouth that would make a sailor blush. Incurable condition, I'm afraid." The result of too much time spent in bars and in online gaming lobbies.

"Not really an attractive quality in a woman," Eddie chimed in. He was leaning against the wall bordering the men's bunk room.

"Nobody asked you," I retorted. "I'll be a fucking lady when I feel like it, thank you very much."

Holly laughed. "You preach it, sister."

Wiseman groaned. "Maybe we should've let those dogs eat you. You're going to be nothing but trouble." He reached under his seat and tossed something at me. "Here. Should help to keep the sun out of your face. Hope it fits."

It was a worn-out black cowboy hat. I tried it on and was surprised when it rested easily on my head.

"How do I look?" I asked, tossing my head back in a cheesy model pose.

"Like a fuckin' idiot," Eddie responded.

"Well then I _have_ to keep it."

"I think it suits you," Holly said kindly.

I smiled at her. "Thanks." I nodded to Wiseman. "And thank you. Maybe tomorrow I'll complain a little less."

He laughed. "Somehow I don't believe that'll ever happen, but it's the thought that counts, right?"

* * *

 ***the black cowboy hat is a little nod to my Lone Wanderer… I was feeling sentimental =P.***


	3. Chapter 3

By my count, I spent just shy of three weeks at the Slog. I woke up each morning hoping that somehow I'd be back home, but I found myself in the same narrow bed surrounded by the three other women who shared the room with me.

And maybe I should've been more distressed, but apart from the ever-present anxiety that I had really just gone insane, things weren't that bad. I was kept busy enough during the day that I didn't have much time to wallow in an existential crisis; and by the time night fell, I was usually so tired that I passed right out. I suppose it helped that I didn't feel like I was missing much, not being at home. I had no real family to speak of… my father had run off when I was a child, and my mother had been dead for nearly a decade. I had a few friends, but no one really close; working two or something three jobs since I was 17 meant I didn't have a lot of time for socializing.

I'd always been more of a "in the moment" kind of girl anyway, and trust me, there were plenty of new challenges to help keep my mind in the present. Like keeping clean, for example. The Slog had running water for the two showers and toilets that had somehow survived the apocalypse, but the water pressure for both was terrible. Showers had to be used sparingly because the water purifiers could only filter water at a certain rate, and we couldn't pull too much from the tarberries without risking the plants. But homemade soap was a thing, and evidently plastic toothbrushes had been hardy enough to survive the nuclear bombing in plentiful numbers, so I could still make myself feel somewhat presentable at the end of each day.

Each of the bathrooms actually had mirrors- cracked ones, but useable nonetheless. I don't know if I was relieved or not to see my own face looking back at me on that first day. I don't know why I might have expected anything different. It was very easy to tell from the get-go that I was in my own skin; I'm pretty well covered in tattoos, so it's not like I could really be mistaken for anyone else. Besides video games, body modification has really been my only financially-draining vice.

So it wasn't much of a surprise to see my own face in the old, tarnished glass. Same dark hair, same boring gray eyes. All the piercings in my ears (and one in my nose) present and accounted for. I was going to have a hell of a job blending in with the rest of the locals looking like a Hot Topic manager's wet dream, but oh well. Wasn't a whole lot I could do about it at this point.

I was learning a lot. Wiseman did indeed convince Eddie to teach me how to shoot. The standoffish ghoul did so begrudgingly at first, but I kept cracking stupid jokes until he had no choice but to laugh. After that, we got on alright. I wasn't a great natural shot, but I could hit a can or bottle at ten yards more often than not, which was progress in my book. He told me that if he could teach me to shoot half as well as I could swear, then I'd be able to kill almost anything that came after me.

I also learned more than I had ever dreamed (or wanted to) about the process of farming tarberries, along with other crops like corn and tomatoes. I was a terrible farmer; I had a body that was used to long hours spent standing and slinging drinks, not hunched over pulling weeds or digging. After one day spent "working the land" I was sore in places I hadn't actively felt in my entire life (or at least not since mandatory P.E. in grade school). The only good part about the physical activity was that I didn't really have the mental capacity or energy to think about anything else. I had no feasible way to get back into my own reality, and dwelling on that for too long made me slide dangerously close to panic attacks.

Wiseman figured out pretty quick that it was more counter-productive to force me to do farming chores than not, and found another task that I was actually good at: cooking chems. Turns out that the Slog wasn't only the main supplier of tarberries for the Commonwealth, but held the market on berry-flavored mentats too (apparently the tarberries were the main ingredient, as least as far as flavoring goes). My soft, lower-middle-class upbringing made me totally intractable as far as hard labor goes, but perfectly capable of following a recipe. Which, ultimately, was all that making mentats consisted of.

"Mr. Walker always warned me I'd end up in a meth lab," I reminisced ironically to myself, as I measured out portions of various chemicals and mashed-up tarberries. "Guess he wasn't wrong."

(Mr. Walker was my hilariously inappropriate older neighbor in my apartment complex. On the first day I moved in, he'd taken one look at me and proclaimed me to be a "wayward child seduced by the long cock of sin," and then invited me over for coffee and a critique of Peter Jackson's "The Fellowship of the Ring". Before I was Twilight-Zoned into this world, lively debate and increasingly creative insults had become our regular Thursday nights.)

As I was industriously experimenting to find a way to make the berry flavor of the drugs stronger, Wiseman sidled up next to me. I could tell that something particular was on his mind, so I stopped what I was doing and faced him with an arched eyebrow.

"What do you want, old man?" I had started calling him that as recompense for him using my full name all the time. Truthfully, I had no idea how old Wiseman was- it was near impossible to accurately estimate the number of years on a ghoul- but I knew he was older than me, and that was enough.

"Got another job for you, Cassidy Mae. If you're up for it."

"If you're going to ask me to work patrol with Eddie again, the answer is no," I said, turning back to my chems. "Last time he startled me so bad I almost put a bullet through my own damn foot, and he laughed his ass off for ten minutes."

Wiseman chuckled but shook his head. "Had something different in mind actually. I need to make another trip out to Goodneighbor to do some trading, and I want you to tag along."

I frowned. "Goodneighbor?" I knew that was a rough town from playing the video game… and it wasn't exactly a leisurely afternoon stroll from here to there, either. "Isn't that kind of dangerous? Wouldn't you rather take Eddie or someone else who's more reliable with a gun?"

"The walk ain't so bad now that the minutemen are around again," Wiseman said. "Mostly just gotta worry about the wildlife, and I don't run into a whole lot bigger than mutts or ferals, usually. And you ain't got nothing to worry about in that town, so long as you stick by me."

"My hero," I simpered sarcastically, batting my eyelashes.

He gave me a look and crossed his arms. "Look, kid, not like we don't like having you around here- we've never said no to an extra pair of hands, and for some reason people seem to like you." I wrinkled my nose at him and he grinned. "But you've still got a hell of a hole in your memory, and you're not gonna find any answers cooking chems and harvesting tarberries."

He was right, of course. I hadn't bothered looking into solving that mystery yet because frankly, I didn't have a single notion of where to start searching for answers. That, and I felt safe at the Slog. I knew what this world would hold for me: vicious irradiated monsters; anarchic raiders; and limited food, water, and shelter. I wasn't necessarily totally safe from the first two at the Slog, but at least I had a roof over my head and a host of other people who'd be willing to help fight back if anything came looking for trouble. I knew nothing about surviving a literal wasteland, even one as populated as this one. If I were on my own, I'd give myself a day tops. _Maybe_ two.

But I couldn't just sit on my ass (figuratively speaking) for the rest of my life and hope that I'd somehow skip back over into my own reality. _Something_ had been the catalyst for me coming here. And I had to believe that if I could figure out what that was, then I'd have a chance of reversing it.

So I sighed, and made a big show of being bothered.

"Wiseman, I never knew you cared," I teased. "If you really can't stand to be away from me for that long, then of course I'll come with you. You've made me the happiest girl in the Commonwealth!"

He rolled his dark eyes. "Kid, I've got at least three decades on you."

"I've always had a thing for older men," I shot back with a wink. "Robbing the grave, and all that."

"Christ." He shook his head and laughed, walking away. "We'll leave tomorrow morning at first light… best to get most of our walking in before the sun gets too hot."


	4. Chapter 4

***Long chapter warning. n_n**

 **Also, sorry if the timeline seems to be moving along kind of quick for this fic... trying to avoid having another massive work on my hands, at least until I can wrap up my other series. May come back to add in a chapter about Cass and Wiseman traveling together sometime in the future, but for now I imagine you all are pretty impatient for her to start meeting the rest of the crew.***

* * *

"So this is Goodneighbor, huh?" I asked. "And I thought that mid-city LA was shady."

Goodneighbor in reality was even darker and more forbidding than it had been in the game. Maybe it had something to do with actually being able to _feel_ the potentially-hostile stares of its citizens as we stepped through the improvised gates. It made me want to pull my hat over my eyes, but I kept my head up and shoulders back. I knew better than to appear like an easy target.

"Goodneighbor's a rough town, but it's still a damn sight better than Diamond City," Wiseman replied. "Gotten a lot better now that Vic's outta the picture, too."

"If you say so." I noticed that we were getting a lot of looks, and shifted uncomfortably. "Hey, Wiseman, what's the deal? Is there a reason everyone's staring at us? I mean, besides your stunning good looks, naturally."

Wiseman chuckled. "Don't worry, kid; they're just not used to seeing a smoothskin and a ghoul on the road together. That ink of yours kind of draws the eye too." I pulled down my sleeves reflexively. "Listen, I got some business to handle with a couple of the traders here… need to find their mayor, too. You want to come along, or will you be alright on your own for a bit?"

"Christ, Wiseman, you don't have to babysit me," I said, rolling my eyes. "Point me in the direction of the nearest bar and I'll make myself right at home. Could use a beer and a chance to get off my feet, anyway."

"'Atta girl." He pointed off down an alleyway. "Right around the corner there… name's the Third Rail. Keep your wits about you and you'll be fine."

I started off and waved. "Thanks, Grandpa. Don't take too long or I'll think you've left me for someone younger and cuter."

Wiseman shook his head. "Stay out of trouble, Cassidy Mae."

I moved through the streets with a purposeful stride, like I knew where I was going… which I actually did. The entrance to the Third Rail was right where I knew it would be, tucked underneath the balcony to the Old State House. A ghoul decked out in a tux was standing guard by the stairway; I recognized him, but couldn't remember his name. Which is just as well, I suppose, since I wasn't supposed to know about _any_ of this. He gave me a swift, professional up-and-down and decided in about two seconds that I wasn't a threat.

"Hancock says newcomers are welcome to the Third Rail," he told me, as he pushed open the metal gated door.

"How gracious of him," I replied, a little archly. The ghoul just harrumphed as I passed by.

"Don't cause any trouble."

Like everything else, seeing the Third Rail in person was more than bit surreal. I always thought that setting up a bar in an abandoned subway station was a little ingenious. It didn't look like Magnolia was singing that night, which was a disappointing… I'd been interested in hearing her sing in person. That was probably why there was so few people actually hanging out; there were maybe ten or so individuals scattered around the tables and chairs that were randomly arranged on the floor.

I wove my way through the tables. The stares of the patrons weighed uncomfortably on my back as I passed, but I did my best not to make eye contact with anyone. It would just encourage them either to make asses of themselves or to try and talk to me, and I was too damn tired to care about making friends. I reached the bar counter without incident and propped my elbows up on it with a sigh.

"What do you want?" the robot- Charlie, I think?- asked me. He still had a cockney accent, which was rad.

"You greet all your customers like that?" I asked. "No wonder this place is swimming in caps."

"I'm programmed to serve drinks, not be your best friend," he replied gruffly. "Now are you gonna order something to drink, or just sit at my bar and take up space?"

"A beer would be peachy, sweetheart," I said in a syrupy tone. "Gosh, you sure do know how to make a new girl feel welcome."

"My pleasure," the bot replied, with a level of sarcasm I hadn't known could be programmed. He filled a glass with what I was assuming was a beer and slid it over to me. "Two caps."

"Never going to get used to using bottle caps as currency," I muttered, flicking the little metal circles over his way. I took a sip of the beer and immediately made a face. "Gross! This is warm. And it tastes like a skunk's ass. Where the fuck do you get this shit from?"

"Take it or leave it," the robot said. "You're not going to find much better anywhere else."

"This place gets better and better." I took another tentative sip and sighed. Well, it was better than nothing.

A couple of men sidled up next to me. _That didn't take long._ They were both smoothskinned humans, which seemed almost weird after all the time I had spent at the Slog. I supposed that it wasn't surprising that I'd drawn attention so quickly. It's not like I'm a 10 or anything, but I was someone new. In a place like this, that was clearly enough.

I rolled my eyes as men leaned against the bar, facing me. _Here we go_. One of them moved closer to me, and inclined his head with a confident grin. He wasn't unattractive, I guess. But I was in the mood for zero bullshit, and it wasn't like I was trolling for a one-night-stand in a town that had Goodneighbor's kind of reputation.

"Hey there, sweetheart," the guy said. I could smell alcohol on his breath, but he wasn't slurring, so he wasn't drunk yet. "Ain't seen you around here before. You new?"

"The lines never change," I remarked to the robot, who favored me with a disinterested _humph._

"I'm kind of a big deal around here…"

"Kill me now."

"… I'd love to show you around."

I held up my hand. "Hard pass, Casanova. Go find an easier mark elsewhere."

He was undeterred. "Hard to get, huh? I like a girl with a little fire in her."

"Do you like girls who would set you on fire? Cuz I'm kind of considering that right now." I played with my glass and tried to give him the cold shoulder. "Seriously, dude, move on. Not interested."

He slid closer to me and wrapped an arm around my waist. "Why so tense, beautiful? You ain't gotta be afraid. No one else in here's got the balls to mess with me."

I arched an eyebrow at him and felt my jaw clench. "You've got a good three seconds to remove your arm, bro."

He acted like he didn't hear me. "Goodneighbor can be a rough place for good little girls, if you're not careful." He leaned in to speak into my ear. "I'd love to see that perky little ass in my room later. What's it gonna take…?"

I stiffened when I felt his hand grab my rear. _And_ there's _the line._

I try not to cause trouble. I really do. I don't really look it… most people see the piercings and the tattoos and (when I can be bothered) brightly colored hair and automatically think _hoodlum_. But in general I'd much rather be left alone than cooling my heels in a police station. However, from time to time you run into people who really just need the word "No" beaten into them.

Needless to say, my temper spiked. I threw what was left of my beer into his face, and while he was stunned I grabbed hold of his neck and slammed his forehead down onto the counter. I'm not impressively strong, especially not in comparison to a man, but I knew enough to be able to use someone's weight against them… especially if they were already buzzed.

At the same time I used my other hand to swoop my knife up to the inside of his thigh, where I pressed the serrated edge just hard enough against his groin to make my point. The entire bar had gone silent, watching the display like we were actors in a play.

"Sit right the fuck back down, cowboy," I growled at his friend, who had made a movement like he wanted to intervene. "I'm one wrist-flick away from making sure your buddy never has kids. So unless you want to be responsible for him losing his manhood, you'll back off."

The other guy thought about it for a moment or two, and then gave in with a grumbled sigh. Casanova squirmed underneath my grip. I pressed the knife a little harder against him, and he stilled.

"Now listen here, jackass," I said. "I'm exhausted, and I've had a really shitty couple of weeks. I don't need a drunk asshole who thinks he's God's gift to women making it worse. So either you're gonna let this go and leave this bar _now_ , or I swear to god I'm going to crazy-murder you. I'll slice off these grapes you call balls and make you wear them as earrings. Understand?"

"Well, well, well, looks like I'm missin' a party."

I glanced behind me to see a familiar ghoul who had strolled up to us. Even if I was still having trouble discerning one ghoul's face from the next (though I'd gotten much better after living at the Slog), I'd have known it was Hancock from his trademark outfit. Red revolutionary coat, tricorner hat, and American flag sash. He was watching the scene with a mixture of amusement and just a touch of wariness. That bouncer ghoul in the tux was standing not far behind him, arms crossed.

"No worries, Paul Revere; these two were just leaving." I released Casanova and roughly shoved him away from me. When he turned back to glare, I waved my knife and gave him my sweetest smile. "Don't even think about it, _sweetheart_. Keep walking, or my perky little ass is gonna carve a few holes in yours."

"See 'em out, would ya, Hamm?" Hancock asked the bouncer, who nodded curtly. I blew kisses at their retreating backs as they were forcibly escorted out.

With that problem taken care of, I shifted my gaze back over to Hancock. "So, are you playing the role of the gentleman here, or are we gonna have problems too? Cuz I gotta be honest, I've only got about half an ass-kicking left in me tonight."

He laughed, and propped himself up against the bar. "You ain't gotta worry about me, doll. The Rail's here for everyone to have a good time, and Holt was gettin' outta line. He deserved what he got."

Once he relaxed, it affected the vibe of the entire room; everyone else immediately went back to what they were doing before, talking or drinking or whatever. I let out a breath I hadn't realized I'd been keeping in as their eyes left me. Being the center of attention put me on edge.

"He's just a drunk, and I'm just a bitch who doesn't have patience for it," I replied, motioning to Charlie for another drink. "Thanks for not kicking me out too, by the way. I know this is your bar and all, but I'd never hear the end of it if I got thrown out after ten minutes."

He cocked his head. "Have we met before?

 _Shit_. I hastened to cover my slip-up. "Are you really surprised that your reputation precedes you, or do you just like hearing about it?"

He grinned and opened his mouth to reply, but at that moment I could hear a familiar raspy voice calling across the room.

"Cassidy Mae, now what did I tell you about starting trouble?"

I hissed and my eyes narrowed as I spotted Wiseman at the bottom of the stairs, heading our way. His face was as stern as a judge's, but I caught the twinkle in his dark eyes as he teased me. Damn it, how had he found out so fast?

"I told you not to call me that, _old man_ ," I growled as he drew level with us. "And I didn't start trouble, I finished it. Totally different thing."

"Not by the way I heard those two upstanding citizens talking about you on their way out."

I feigned being hurt, hand to my chest. "You let them talk shit about your best girl and didn't do a thing to stop it? I thought we had something special."

Wiseman crossed his arms and looked over at Hancock. "Apologies, Hancock. Feel free to take this one out back and beat her a little if you think it'll straighten her out."

"Don't tease me with a good time, now," I said with a wink, and both men chuckled.

"Good to see ya, Wiseman," Hancock said, clasping my friend's shoulder affectionately. "Glad to see you're still in one piece. Little surprised to see you settled down, though."

Wiseman laughed. "Don't let her fool you; she wishes she were that lucky. Cassidy Mae here is just a stray that we took in at the Slog."

I shrugged. "Say what you like, old man. You're going to fall for my girlish charms eventually." Then my eyes narrowed. "And don't you get him started on calling me that. It's _Cass_ , old man."

"You two staying in town long?" Hancock asked.

Wiseman shook his head. "Just the night. Soon as our business is done, it's back to the Slog. I always get worried if I stay away for too long."

Hancock nodded understandingly. "I'll tell Clair that your rooms are on me. For old time's sake."

Wiseman inclined his head. "Much obliged." His eyes flickered to me, and for a moment he hesitated. "You got a moment to talk, Hancock? Upstairs, maybe?"

"Sure thing." The ghoul mayor looked back at me. "You gonna be alright by yourself?"

"Translation: please don't fuck up the bar or its patrons any more than you already have tonight," I said, and gave him a quick salute. "Message received." I waved my hand. "Go on ahead. Just don't keep Wiseman too long or I may fall prey to Charlie's devilishly charming personality."

"Fucking barmiest bird I've ever seen come down here," Charlie replied from down the bar.

"Good to meet ya, Cass," Hancock said, with a quick nod. "Welcome to Goodneighbor."

I raised my glass to him and winked. "To your good health and long reign, Mr. Mayor."

* * *

That night, even though I was tired all the way to my bones, I couldn't sleep. I tossed and turned in the darkness of my small room for a couple of hours, at least. I don't know if it was the sudden lack of having other people around- I had gotten used to the sleeping arrangements at the Slog faster than I had thought possible- or if I just had too much on my brain. And whenever I did manage to doze off, my mind kept trying to fall into weird dreams. Something about not being able to move, and people watching me. It was unsettling, and I jerked back to alertness each time.

If I had been back home, I would've just gotten out of bed and fired up Netflix or a video game for a couple of hours until the Sandman decided to take mercy on me. Not that I was certain I could ever stand to play video games again, if I did manage to make it back. But here, I didn't even have a book or magazine to keep me occupied. There was the darkness and my thoughts and that was it.

With a groan of frustration, I rolled myself out of bed. I pulled my jeans and boots back on, grumbling to myself the whole time. Maybe a walk would get my brain to shut up… not like I wouldn't be doing a shitload of walking in a few hours anyway, but I didn't have a lot of options. And it couldn't hurt to get more familiar with the layout of the city, in case I ever came back. After making certain my knife was safely tucked next to my hip, I slipped quietly out of the hotel and onto the street.

Everything was pretty much dead. It was really early in the morning; I didn't have a watch, so I didn't know exactly what time it was, but I figured it had to be only a couple hours from dawn at best. There were a couple of people passed out in the gutter or nearby the improvised lean-tos that bordered the taller buildings, but other than that I was alone.

Goodneighbor wasn't very big, in spite of everyone referring to it as a city or town, so for a while I just paced back and forth across the main road. I stared at the buildings and tried to think about what they would look like it my time… if they would've existed at all. The only place I was positive existed in both timelines was the Old State House. It felt weird, knowing that historical figures who were a pivotal part of my reality's history had played just as important a part in this one. Everything had probably been almost exactly the same up to a certain point, and then the roads our histories took had diverged. I wondered if I would ever figure out when that was, if I stayed here long enough.

Thinking about staying in this universe got me thinking even more about home. I painted the picture of Socal beaches in my mind; I missed the clean, salty tang of the air, the crash of the waves. I missed strolling down the Third Street Promenade in Santa Monica on summer nights, barhopping in places I'd never worked and letting myself feel like I led a charmed life, even if just for a little bit. I missed tourist-watching with my coworkers, and how anything I wanted or needed was just a bus ride, Uber, or short walk away. I missed air conditioning, microwaves, my iPhone and freaking Google Maps.

I changed directions and headed down the alley towards the front of the Old State House. I wanted to look at something at least kind of familiar to me, even if it was only for a few minutes.

As I walked, I began to sing to myself… softly, so as not to disturb the peace of the night.

" _On a dark desert highway, cool wind in my hair… warm smell of colitas rising up through the air_ ," I sang, smiling just a little. " _Up ahead in the distance, I saw a shimmering light… my head grew heavy and my sight grew dim, I had to stop for the night…_ "

"You could give Magnolia a run for her money."

" _Fuck_ me gently with a chainsaw!" I yelped, as I nearly jumped out of my skin. I spotted Hancock leaning in the doorway to the State House, half-hidden in shadow, and glared. "Christ, you trying to give me a heart attack?"

He had his tricorner hat pulled low over his eyes, but I could see his shoulders shake with a suppressed laughter. "Can't say I've heard that one before."

I crossed my arms. "What, the song, or the curse?"

"Both, but I was referrin' to your swearing. You kiss your mother with that mouth?"

He was teasing. I arched a brow at him, unamused. "Actually, my mother swore with the best of them… not that how I speak is any of your fucking business." I caught the acerbic tone in my voice, and tried to force myself to relax. "So is lurking in the shadows a personal hobby of yours, or did I just get lucky?"

He shrugged. "Ghouls don't need to sleep much. You probably know that, hangin' around Wiseman and the rest of his crew." He tilted his hat back up and studied me, head tilted to the side just a bit. "By the looks of things, you don't need to sleep much, either."

I sighed, and ran a hand through my hair. "No, I do need to sleep. I just can't. Hence the walking."

"Goodneighbor ain't exactly a place where you wanna be walkin' around alone at night."

I scoffed. "I've lived in my share of dangerous neighborhoods. I can handle myself."

"Maybe. Wiseman'd never forgive me if I left you out here to try your luck, though." He jerked his head back towards the State House. "You need to sleep? I got one or two things that could help with that."

I widened my eyes in fake innocence. "Oh, no. Mommy warned me about men like you. She said to never go home with strangers."

He chuckled. "Hey, your choice, doll. But you ain't gotta worry about me… there's no fun in foolin' around with someone who doesn't want it."

He could've been lying through his teeth. But he hadn't been an asshole earlier down in the Third Rail- actually, he'd been pretty cool- and if he behaved like his in-game counterpart, then he was likely being genuine. I figured it would be okay to trust him… at least up to a point.

Plus, I really needed a drink. Something better than the pisswater Whitechapel Charlie had been peddling.

So, after watching him carefully for a moment, I shrugged and walked over. I hitched a little half-smile on my face as I drew closer, catching the quick shine of his eyes underneath his hat.

"Fine. But I'm pouring my own drinks, big guy."


	5. Chapter 5

There's something about your sense of smell that really cements things in reality for you. When I followed Hancock up into the Old State House (and I was really trying hard to _follow_ , not lead like I knew where I was going), I found that it was all the different scents that made things a little less surreal and more concrete. The Old State House smelled like dust, old cigarette smoke, damp wood, and some kind of underlying sweetness that may have been a combination of varied chems and alcohol. In a weird way, it was like a combination of being in an old library and a pub, not at all unpleasant. Actually, it was comforting.

Hancock led me into the conference room to the left, on the second floor. It was dimly illuminated by one old floor lamp placed near the couches, and a few candles that flickered randomly around the room. I bit my tongue _hard_ to keep from making a crack about mood lighting.

"Cozy… all we're missing is a bearskin rug and some Kenny G." _Goddammit._

Hancock gave me a confused glance as I stepped past him into the room. "Come again?"

I shook my head. "Nothing. My mouth's just two steps ahead of my brain." I folded my arms under my chest and tried to think of a way to dispel the awkwardness that was building. "So, do you make a habit out of inviting newcomers into your home?"

"A mayor oughta know who's walkin' around his city," he replied with a shrug. "You never know what kinda connections someone might have… or what they might be willin' to do for ya."

I arched an eyebrow as I watched him walk over to the cupboards at the back of the room. "Well, I gotta say… my only connection is Wiseman, who you already know, and I'm not a merc or gun-for-hire. So what exactly are you getting out this?"

"Good company." He shot me a wink over his shoulder, and I couldn't help but grin.

"No accounting for taste on your part, but alright."

I paced around to look at stuff while he dug a couple of bottles out of one of the cupboards. There wasn't much to see… some scattered newspapers or magazines, a lot of (presumably empty) Jet inhalers and mentats tins, and a few cardboard boxes full of who knows what. The building was quiet… we had passed one bored guard on the way up the stairs, but I couldn't hear anything else but the occasional creak of old walls. So either we were alone, or everyone else in the State House was really good at not moving.

"So what song were you singin' out there?" Hancock asked me as he walked over with a couple of bottles in hand. He extended one out to me and I accepted it with a grateful tip of my head.

"Uhhh… 'Hotel California'?" I asked, and then my eyes went round. "Oh, no. Don't tell me…" I slapped my palm against my forehead and groaned. "The Eagles don't exist out here. Oh, you poor souls. Who knows how much good music you're missing out on?"

He shrugged, and took a generous swig from his bottle. "What's-his-name, that kid over in Diamond City who runs the radio station, he's got the most songs in the Commonwealth. Yours ain't one of them, though."

"I don't think you'll ever realize how depressing that is to me." I took a swallow from my own bottle, and immediately began coughing from the burn. "Jesus! Is this supposed to be whiskey, or moonshine?"

He grinned. "Trouble holdin' your liquor?"

I shook my head, still clearing my throat. "I'm no lightweight, but I'd bet money that whatever's in this bottle isn't anything under 110 proof." I took another cautious sip, and this time it went down a little smoother. "Guess I shouldn't have expected anything less. At least it's not tequila."

"Tequila?"

I nodded. "The Elixir of drunken regrets and terrible decisions. Probably a lot more common down south than up here. The last time I got really wasted on tequila, I woke up on the floor of a friend's bar wearing someone else's pants, a pair of handcuffs, and a bedsheet tied around my neck like a cape. Still not really sure what happened."

He laughed. "Sounds like a night well spent to me, sister."

"I can only hope it was worth that hangover."

He dropped onto one of the couches- the seat furthest from the light, I noticed- and lit up a cigarette with a fluid, practiced motion. I settled down onto the opposite end, with one leg tucked up underneath myself and the other stretched out in between us. I tried not to stare at the smoke as it purled past his lips and out of where his nose used to be. Maybe it was the whiskey already at work, but it kind of made him look like a dragon, and frankly it was pretty fucking cool.

"So how are you liking our friendly little community?" he asked.

"Overly confident drunken assholes aside?" I asked, lips quirking up just a little.

He chuckled. "Yeah. You handled yourself pretty well back there, by the way. Holt's been in need of a good ass kicking."

"I'm just lucky he wasn't expecting it," I replied honestly. "I'm not really much of a fighter."

"Didn't seem like that was the case earlier."

"Oh, I'll defend myself if I need to," I said. "I've made friends with a lot of bouncers over the years who've shown me a thing or two. But I try to make a point of not looking for trouble." I thought about that for a second, and amended myself. "At least, I try not to be _asking_ for trouble when it inevitably finds me."

That got me another chuckle. It should've been weirder, having drinks with the actual Mayor Hancock of Goodneighbor. This was something I had idly imagined my Sole Survivor doing. And it was a little awkward, but no more than if I'd been hanging out one-on-one with any other stranger.

"As for your 'community'… " I continued, talking more to distract myself than anything else, "Goodneighbor is a lot less scary than I was expecting. Kinda feels like home in a lot of ways, actually. Or at least certain neighborhoods."

He hummed, and his voice was a little like gears grinding together… but not in a bad way. "Good to hear. Where's home for you, anyway? 'Cuz you sure as hell ain't from around here."

I snapped my fingers, pretending to be put out. "Well, damn. What was it that gave me away?"

"Call it a hunch."

I was starting to be increasingly grateful for the bottle in my hand. I hadn't noticed it much earlier down in the Third Rail, but Hancock was… I guess intense isn't quite the right word, but it's close enough. His eyes stayed fixed on me in a way that almost set me on edge. Maybe it was because I was used to a world where people have all but developed a symbiotic relationship with the screens of their smartphones. His undivided attention made me feel important, but also very much like I was being x-rayed. I did my best to keep his gaze, but was glad that the alcohol gave me an excuse to look away every so often.

"I'm from SoCal," I replied. "That is, southern California. Wayyy over on the west coast. So like, 3000 miles from here."

"No shit?" He cocked his head. "Hell of a long walk. What brought you out here?"

I felt my face fall for an instant before I could catch myself. _I wish I knew_.

"I guess I'm looking for something I haven't found yet," I said, a little lamely. It was a bullshit, too-vague response, but I didn't feel like trying to explain my amnesia, or talking my way around the fact that this world was supposed to be fictional.

I felt rather than saw his gaze turn sharp as he weighed my response, and cursed internally when my own eyes dropped to my hands. I was never going to last if I didn't improve my poker face. But for whatever reason, he didn't push the issue.

"How'd you end up with Wiseman?" he asked, casually changing the subject. I tried not to visibly sigh with relief. "He and I go back a ways. Pretty decent guy, as far as us ghouls go."

"Eh, he's okay," I said, fake-dismissively. I smiled to show I was joking. "He and Eddie saved me from becoming a chew toy for some wild dogs. He offered me a place to stay after… turns out I'm shit at farming, but I can cook. All those different-flavored mentats I know he brought you were made by yours truly."

"No shit?" He regarded me with fresh interest. "That batch was a lot stronger than his usual stock. I might have to steal you away from him."

I didn't quite know how to reply to that, so I opted to stand and stretch instead. My muscles were still pretty sore from all the walking, and sitting on that old couch was making me stiff. I reached as high as I could and arched my back, sighing a little as the vertebrae in my spine popped. _What I wouldn't give for a massage and a hot bath._

I looked back to see Hancock's gaze had moved from my face to travel over the rest of my body- not very discreetly, either- and I smirked.

"Hey, my eyes are little farther north than that."

"Don't mind me; just enjoyin' the view," he drawled, finishing his cigarette in one long drag. I kicked at his boot.

"You must say that to all the girls."

I brought the whiskey bottle to my lips again. My head was starting to feel pleasantly fuzzy, but now I was far too warm. I shrugged out of the flannel shirt I wore and tied the sleeves in a knot around my waist before plopping back down on the cushions.

"So Wiseman says you know each other from Dia… oh for fuck's sake." My question degraded into a grumble as I saw his dark eyes widen at the sight of my bare arms. "Really? Are tattoos really _that_ rare here? I should start charging people for this shit."

"Those are real?" he asked. I saw his hand twitch, like he wanted to reach out and touch, but he stopped himself.

I snorted. "They goddamn better be, or I spent way too much money and way too many hours under the needle for no reason." I looked down at my artwork proudly. "Tattoos are the only vice I really allowed myself to splurge on." Well, that and video games, but we weren't going to talk about that.

He was still staring, like I had sprouted scales or something. I looked at him for a moment, and then sighed. Most people at the Slog had had a pretty similar reaction; it was part of the reason why I'd stayed covered up when we first rolled into Goodneighbor. If I had to go through this with everyone I met in the Commonwealth, it was going to get old fast. I scooted myself over right next to him and held out my arms.

"Go ahead," I said, half-amused and half-exasperated.

He blinked at me, clearly taken off guard. "What?"

"People who've never been under the needle _always_ want to touch," I explained. "So go ahead. I promise I don't bite." Then I winked. "Well, not unless you ask me nicely."

He smirked. "A girl after my own heart."

For a moment I thought he might not take me up on the offer, but then he gently took my arm in his hand. He brushed his thumb over the three chain links I had etched into my wrist… a reference to the _Bioshock_ series, and a little piece of nerdiness that I sadly remembered no one here would understand. Then he traced the lines of some blackwork roses I had a little higher up, feeling the way the ink actually created raised lines in my skin*. I thought his hands might be rough, like Wiseman's or Eddie's, but though the scarring gave his skin an interesting texture, his fingers didn't feel callused or leathery at all.

I jumped a little when he got close to the crook of my elbow, and he flinched back like I had screamed in pain.

"It's okay; that just tickles," I said. "I'd let you know if you hurt me."

"That ain't exactly what I was worried about," he said, looking a little bemused. "You're, uh, pretty comfortable with ghouls, for a smoothskin."

Ah, _that_ was why he was so being so careful. I had forgotten that most people didn't like ghouls touching them. Again, I had the Slog to thank for that. Being surrounded by nothing but ghouls for weeks made it hard to remember that racism was alive and well in the Commonwealth. I'm not modest in the slightest and very comfortable with touch, so it wasn't really anything to let Hancock- or anyone else, for that matter- check out my ink. I didn't think about the fact that he was probably used to people being too afraid or disgusted by his kind to tolerate any kind of physical contact.

I couldn't help but wrinkle my nose and bare my teeth a little as all these thoughts sounded off in my head.

"The prejudice people out here have against ghouls is fucking ridiculous," I said. "Like the world doesn't have enough problems without adding racism into the mix."

"You're preachin' to the choir." He peered at me intently, expression inscrutable. "Not many people are as… tolerant, as you, though."

"They should be. You don't have to be a saint to respect people who are different from you… you just have to _not_ be an asshole."

Then I yawned, which sort of ruined my impassioned little mini-rant. I'd lost track of exactly how much whiskey I'd drank, but I was getting sleepy fast. Once I started to think about it, suddenly it was like my whole body was being weighed down by lead.

"I should get back," I said, fighting off another yawn. "Sun'll be up before I know it… and Wiseman'll be merciless if he comes to collect me and I'm still drunk."

I stood up and swayed precariously as the floor became like a water bed under my feet. Hancock watched me with a brow raised as I laughed at myself and flopped back down.

"Or maybe not. Does the floor feel like it's moving to you?"

"Why don't you stay here?" Hancock asked. He held up his palms when I raised my eyebrows at him. "Relax, it ain't like that, Wobbles. You can crash here till morning. Those beds at the Rexford aren't that much better than this old couch, anyway."

"No offense, but I'd rather sleep behind a locked door when I have the chance," I said, as I got to my feet again. I could catch my words starting to slur now that I was listening for it. "You don't scare me… no, that's not true. You're definitely scary…"

"Thanks."

"You're welcome," I chirruped cheerfully, and he shook his head. "Anyway, I think if you were gonna kill me or something you'd have done it already, yeah? There are a lotta other people here though, and they might not be as chill."

"Hey, I may be a lowlife junkie, but I'm the lowlife junkie that everyone around here listens to," he replied. "You're a guest, which means everyone here knows better than to mess with you. You'll be okay so long as you're under this roof. Catch a few hours' rest, and Wiseman won't have far to look in the morning to find ya."

I eyed him carefully and considered his offer. Truth be told, the thought of trying to navigate that circular staircase- let alone finding my way back to my room in the Rexford- wasn't especially appealing by that point. Falling asleep and not having to move, on the other hand…

"Fine, you win," I acquiesced at last. He stood to leave- very gentlemanly of him, considering that I was the one crashing in what was basically his living room. I stretched out along the cushions, eyes already drifting closed.

"Thanks for the lullaby," I said, my voice barely above a murmur as I tapped the whiskey bottle… which I had been careful to set on the coffee table amidst the old newspapers and drug paraphernalia.

"Anytime."

I think I stayed awake long enough to hear the sound of his boots walking towards the door… and then I was out like a light.

* * *

 ***Interesting note, for those of you who've never been tattooed before... tats will actually leave raised lines in your skin where the black ink is thick enough/ solid enough. #themoreyouknow ;)**


	6. Chapter 6

"Not even one day, huh? Gotta be a new mayoral record."

I bared my teeth at the guard who stood at the foot of the stairs as I had passed by. "I didn't sleep with Hancock, dumbass. Not that it's any of your business."

The guard was unfazed. "He must not've done that great a job… I'll have to warn him that he's off his game." Then he leered at me, his grin stretching his scarred skin tightly over the planes of his skull. "Plenty of other fish in the sea if you want some real lovin', smoothskin."

"I can take care of myself, thanks," I said as I pushed past, giving him a suggestive two-fingered salute as I walked by. I heard him break out in a bark of laughter behind me.

"You are very, very stupid," I chastised myself as I strode to the two shopfronts at the entrance to the city.

It was about the fiftieth time I'd told myself that after waking up sprawled across one of the couches in the Old State House. I was startled at first, but once my brain had time to wake up I remembered something about accepting an offer to stay. I could track the night pretty well up until Hancock started asking me about my tattoos… that's where things got a little fuzzy. I knew that I was very, very lucky that Hancock had kept his word; just because I knew the character in the game didn't necessarily mean _this_ version would stack up. He was a stranger to me, and a dangerous one at that.

I couldn't run through all of this pretending I could reload a save after a bad decision, or that I would magically respawn if I got myself killed. I needed to play smarter if I wanted to survive.

I spotted Wiseman talking to the woman who ran the equivalent of a general store- Daisy's Discounts. He watched me approach with an unreadable expression, though I could've thrown a few guesses at what he was thinking. The chances that he hadn't heard about where I'd crashed were slim to none.

"Mornin'!" he greeted me, in a louder tone than was necessary. I winced as the volume of his voice bashed into my hungover brain like a bat. "Heard you made a new friend last night?"

"Wiseman, if you have any mercy in you at all, you will speak more softly," I said in a low growl.

"This oughta help," Daisy said. She offered me a carton of purified water, which I took and guzzled down greedily. "On the house."

"You should be more careful," Wiseman lectured me. "Tougher folks than you have gone walking around Goodneighbor at night and been bleeding out in the gutter by morning."

"I couldn't sleep," I said, as though that was a reasonable excuse. "Besides, I only spent a few minutes out on the street."

"Yeah, I heard where you spent the rest of your night." He crossed his arms and would've cocked an eyebrow at me, if he'd had any. "Hancock may be a friend, but he's a dangerous guy, Cassidy Mae. Not someone to be fooling around with."

I threw my hands up in the air. "I didn't sleep with him! Does the whole freaking town think that?"

Wiseman fought to keep his thin lips pressed into a frown. "Wasn't the sleeping I was talking about."

My gaze drilled holes into his head. "I swear to god, old man, if you don't knock it off…"

"Let her be, Wiseman," Daisy said, humor warming her voice. "You know you're just rilin' her up."

"That's because getting her heated makes the next part easier," he replied, and I felt a surge of wariness replace my frustration.

"What are you talking about?" I demanded, not missing the way Daisy quietly slipped away. I watched her leave and then turned back to him with my arms crossed. "Wiseman, what did you mean by that?"

"You're not coming back with me, Cass," he said.

Confusion, followed by anger and (surprisingly) hurt, swept through me. The wounded feeling grew stronger as my brain helpfully drew up reasons for his decision. I was a burden, not used to the hardness of Commonwealth living. That he and the others had gotten tired of me only made sense. Still, I hadn't thought he'd be so callous as to just dump me in the most dangerous town in the Commonwealth like yesterday's trash. I thought we had at least been friends.

Then after thought struck me that left my face pale: had I been sold? Slavery wasn't unheard of in this universe, after all. Oh god, if that was the case…

"For Christ's sake, you look like a kicked puppy," Wiseman complained, and I made a face at him. "I'm not abandoning you here cuz I don't like you, kid. It's just…" He frowned as he tried to get his wording right, "It's just that you don't belong at the Slog. You've still got answers you need to find, and you aren't gonna uncover them pulling tarberries out of an old pool."

Chagrin immediately replaced any other emotion I had been feeling. Of course that's what the old ghoul had been concerned about. I felt like the world's biggest asshole for having suspected anything different. He just wanted to help me find my way home… though he didn't know just how impossible of a task that was.

"Goodneighbor ain't the safest place in the world, but more people come through here than do the Slog," Wiseman continued explaining. "And more people means more opportunities to learn something, more information. You'll be a lot closer to figuring out what happened to you here than at our little farm. Might even find someone to hitch a ride home with, if you want to go back." When I didn't say anything, he put a hand on my shoulder. "You don't have to stay here if you don't want to, Cassidy Mae. But I spoke with Hancock this morning. He owes me a few favors from his pre-ghoul days. He's willing to find work for you to pay for room and board at Rexford, at least until you figure out where you need to be headed to next."

"I thought you said Hancock was dangerous?" I asked challengingly, and he shrugged.

"He is. I've seen him do things that'd make a grown man shake in his boots… and heard stories about worse. But ultimately he's a good man." Wiseman's face had grown serious. "He won't hurt you or intentionally put you in harm's way, so long as you don't give him a reason to. Just don't get too close if you're looking to stay out of trouble."

I didn't really know what to say. I knew he was right, that I would get nowhere by staying safe and sound at the Slog. But you get to know people a lot more quickly when you live and work with them all day, every day, and I had come to like the old ghoul and the rest of his ragtag little family. It might've been different if this was really my world, where "goodbye" would be closer to "See you later." But there was a chance that this farewell would be permanent, and I was surprised by how much that notion sucked.

My eyes stung, so I ducked my head while I tried to blink tears back.

"So I guess I'll see you later, then," I said, trying to sound casual and probably failing. _Damn it._ I was too fucking sentimental for my own good.

Wiseman bumped my shoulder to get me to look up at him. "Hey, don't go wasting any tears on a withered old grump like me. It ain't like this is goodbye forever… the Slog ain't going anywhere. You can come visit anytime you feel like rooting around in the tarberry bog."

I managed a laugh. "In that case, it might as well be goodbye forever." I turned and wrapped my arms around his neck in a tight hug. "Seriously, Wiseman, thank you. I'll find a way to pay you and the others back for the kindness you've shown me. I owe you guys my life."

"Just focus on getting that life together first," Wiseman replied, a little gruffly. But he returned my hug with a quick squeeze of his own all the same. "Take care of yourself, Cassidy Mae."

"You do the same, old man."

* * *

Hancock wasn't hard to find… but I suppose he never is, unless he wants to be. He was leaning against the outside of the Memory Den with his bodyguard/right-hand woman Fahrenheit, who I also recognized from the game. I knew he saw me the instant I came out of the alley by the Third Rail, but he didn't say anything until I had drawn level with the two of them.

"Look, boss, your latest conquest has come back for more," Fahrenheit remarked coolly. She was an intimidating woman - tall and strong-looking in that metal armor of hers – but I refused to let her cow me.

"I'd say don't be jealous, but let's be realistic here," I said, spreading my hands. "Kind of impossible not to be."

She raised her eyebrows. "Jealous? Of fucking Hancock?" She gave her boss a wry glance, and he chuckled. "I don't think so."

"Wasn't talking about fucking Hancock," I said with a wink. She blinked at me, showing what I'm sure was a rare moment of surprise, and Hancock's chuckle turned into a laugh.

"Looks like she got you, Fahre," he said, which made her scowl. To me, he said, "I take it Wiseman tracked you down?"

I nodded, and crossed my arms. "He did. Though he was nonspecific as to the nature of the work you had for me."

"Always room in Goodneighbor for a new whore," Fahrenheit said matter-of-factly. I couldn't tell if she was being serious or just wanted to get my hackles up. Probably a little of both.

I blew her a kiss and grinned. "You're cute when you're pretending not to care."

Her eyes narrowed, but I saw her mouth twitch in the direction of a smile. "Watch it."

"Seriously, though, I don't do prostitution," I said, looking back at Hancock. "No judgment for the men and women who do, but I've done my time in customer service and can barely tolerate most people as it is without adding sex into the mix."

"What can you do?" he asked me… not patronizingly, which was nice.

"Not a whole hell of a lot," I said honestly. "I can handle cash, but math isn't my forte, so bookkeeping isn't a good idea. And I'm no Deadshot with a gun." I saw his face blank at the name and hurriedly waved my hand. "He's a comic book character, don't worry about it."

"Seems like you're pretty useless to me," Fahrenheit said. This time I rolled my eyes at her.

"And what's your job, princess? Public Relations?"

Instead of getting pissed, Fahrenheit smirked at me. "Your mouth is gonna get your ass kicked one of this days."

"It's already happened once or twice. I figure it's the most likely out of all of my body parts to get me killed." My eyes rested back towards the entrance to the Third Rail, and I had an idea. "Hey! I can tend bar."

Hancock gave me a skeptical look. "I've already got a bartender, sister… one I _don't_ have to pay."

"Yeah, and he's got about as much personality as this kitten that you keep on payroll," I said, jerking my head towards Fahrenheit. "People drinking in bars are looking for three things: sex, stories, and someone to complain to. Your clientele knows they're not going to get any of those from that crabby old robot."

He lifted a shoulder. "Haven't had any complaints about Charlie so far."

"Maybe not, but doing the bare minimum isn't the way to grow a business," I said, crossing my arms. "Let me prove I'm right. I'll tend bar with Chuckles the Robot tonight, and if I don't increase your profit by… let's say 200 caps, then you can tell Wiseman I'm a lost cause and I'll take a hike."

Hancock thought about it, nodded, and shook my hand. "Alright, Cass. You've got yourself a deal."


	7. Chapter 7

***Sorry for the delay in updating! I think I rewrote this chapter like four times at least, and finally just had to force myself to post it because I could probably keep tweaking it forever.**

 **Also, thank you SO MUCH to everyone who has been leaving me comments/ favs! This fic started out more as a random drabble and I've been so surprised/ delighted at how much you guys seem to be enjoying it 3. Hopefully I can keep it up!**

 **As always, suggestions/comments are awesome, and thanks again everyone for reading! You guys are the best! xD***

* * *

So it was that I found myself strolling behind the bar in the Third Rail shortly after nightfall. Charlie didn't have a face to emote with, but I could feel indignation in the way his mechanical eyes focused on me.

"What the bloody hell do you think you're doing?" he demanded, as shrugged out of my jacket and tucked it under the counter.

"Say hello to your new partner," I said, winking. "For the night at least, unless I can prove to Hancock that I know what I'm doing."

"You're out of your bloody mind," Charlie grumpily responded. "The boss must be trying to punish me for something."

I made a kissy face at him. "You and I are going to be besties before the night is out, I can already tell."

"You threaten to stab another customer in the bollocks and I'll throw you out on your ear."

"Oh, give the girl a chance, Charlie."

Magnolia swayed up to the bar, glittering and gorgeous in her trademark red dress. I'd always liked that she channeled old Hollywood glamour, even with being in the post-nuclear Commonwealth. She did so no less effectively for being flesh-and-blood.

"I for one like seeing a new face around the bar. And a pretty one at that." She smiled at me and tapped a finger against the countertop. "I'll be your first customer, sweetheart. Shot of whiskey to warm up the old vocal chords."

"Sure thing." It only took me a few seconds to locate where the liquor bottles and glasses were kept; it wasn't like there was the usual variety to choose from.

"You're Cass, right?" Magnolia asked me as I slid the glass over to her. "I heard your name on the street a few different times today. You're a girl who leaves an impression."

"That's a nice way of putting it."

She laughed lightly. "Oh, I think I'm going to like having you around." She downed her shot like a pro and fluttered her fingers at us as she stepped over to the small stage area. "Duty calls."

"This is going to be a bloody disaster," Charlie predicted grimly.

"Tone it down a little, drama queen," I replied, watching as more people began to filter in down the stairs. "I've got this."

* * *

"And then Quirrell runs into the great hall, robes and turban all askew, pale as a ghost. 'Troll!' he screams. 'Troll in the dungeon!' Everyone is dead silent, just kind of staring at him. He's a quiet little weirdo, remember, so it's not like he's the sort to be playing jokes. He sort of sways and calmly says 'Thought you ought to know.' And then he just collapses onto the ground, passed out right in the middle of the Great Hall."

"And then what happened?"

I grinned at the crowd of attentive, eager, kind of drunk faces in front of me. "Well, you'll have to come back tomorrow night to find out."

There was a chorus of groans and a few good-natured laughs as everyone began to disperse. Some of them returned to their tables or booths in the back of the bar, but most headed for the stairs. I wasn't sure exactly what time it was, but it was definitely the wee hours of the morning, and even the most dedicated barflys needed to get some sleep.

I began to gather up the many glasses that had piled up on the bar and nearby tables while I had been engaged as storyteller. It wasn't exactly what I'd had in mind when I said I could increase the bar's profits, but everyone had kept buying beers for as long as I was talking (it'd helped that I reminded them about refills from time to time). It started when a couple of traders who had been chatting me up asked about the Dark Mark I have emblazoned on my left forearm. When I mentioned it was from a very popular fantasy series, they refused to drop it until I explained what it was about. Next thing I knew I had a crowd of adult men and women packed around the bar like a kindergarten class while I performed my best retelling of _The Sorceror's Stone_.

I guess it made sense… it's not like these people had TV or the internet or anything to keep them entertained. I'll admit to having felt no small level of satisfaction at converting an entire bar full of people into a tribe of Potterheads, even if the fandom was secondhand. It was a good thing I knew those books like the back of my hand.

Charlie was busy counting out the caps. He'd been listening too, even if he pretended to be too occupied with cleaning the same three feet of the countertop the whole time.

"So how'd we do, Chuck?" I asked, as I set myself to cleaning glasses and chipped mugs.

"Nearly 500 caps," the robot muttered. "497 to be exact."

"How much would you normally do?"

"… the average take is around 250."

"HA!" I cheered so loudly that Charlie backpedaled from me in alarm. "I fucking knew I could do it!"

"Beginner's luck," Charlie groused. "Don't get too puffed up."

"You've got a knack for storytelling," Magnolia said. She had stayed to listen too, and was just now gathering herself up to leave.

"Nah, I've just got a good memory for stories I've already heard," I said with a shrug. "Trust me, I'd kill to have the creativity to come up with something like _Harry Potter_. Though I've got to say, being a nerd has never been so profitable for me."

"Either way, you did a great job," she said, and then she wagged a finger at me. "Just make sure not to go stealing my spotlight now."

"Wouldn't dream of it."

She smiled and waved a leisurely hand over her shoulder as she headed to the foot of the stairs, where Hamm was waiting to escort her back to her room. "Good to hear. I look forward to seeing you tomorrow, new girl."

It didn't take very long to finish closing up; Charlie would take care of most of the cleaning, since he never really had to power down. Nuclear power cores were great that way. I helped him clear the room and then walked out into the dark, very-early morning with a grin on my face. I had more than won my bet with Hancock. We had wagered that I would beat his average nightly profits by 200 caps, and according to Charlie I'd nearly doubled it.

It wasn't a feat I could repeat nightly, I was sure… I had the whole "mysterious new girl in town" edge to draw people in, and that would fade quickly. Plus drunken storytime was a novelty that would likely get old at some point. But that wasn't enough to dull the satisfaction I felt from winning. With my entire life having been turned inside out at the atomic level, I'd take what little victories I could.

Goodneighbor was quiet as my boots stepped softly across the pavement. Or as quiet as it ever seemed to get, anyway. Dawn wasn't far away; I was guessing it was around 4a.m. I wondered if I'd even be able to sleep at all; I was so jazzed from my success that it was going to take a while for me to wind down.

I glanced up at the Old State House as I walked. A dim orange glow lit up a couple of windows, though I couldn't see much more than the ceiling from that angle. I paused for half a beat before abruptly changing direction to stride towards the back door. Hancock was probably still up, and I felt like gloating a little. Though I'd have to watch any more offers to help me get to sleep; without the usual greasy food and Gatorade, it took me most of the day to recover from last night's hangover.

I had just reached the door when it opened under my fingertips. I hastily stumbled back a step to avoid colliding with the individuals on the other side. Two women, both more than a little disheveled and about as scantily clad as one tended to get in the wasteland, stumbled out next to me.

"Hey, watch it!" one of them snapped, slurring a bit, and then her eyes widened when she focused on me. "Hey… you're the new girl, ain't you? The one who's all drawn on?"

She reached out to touch me with her fingertips. I deftly sidestepped out the way... and not-so-deftly stepped right into Hancock, who was leaning in the doorway with his arms crossed. I bumped into his shoulder and grabbed his arm to keep from losing my balance.

"Fuck!"

"Whoa, easy there, 'new girl,'" he drawled, amused. I could feel his hand lightly go to the center of my back to help steady me. "Haven't been drinkin' on the job, have ya?"

"No, I just happen to be super graceful tonight," I muttered, blushing to the roots of my hair. I glanced over at him and sighed in relief. "Well, at least you're dressed, or this could have been a lot more awkward."

It was pretty clear that these women were hookers. Which meant that, had I gotten out of the bar any earlier, I would have deeply regretted walking into the State House unannounced. _Note to self: FUCKING KNOCK._

"I heard that you drew one of those things on yourself for every man you killed," one of the prostitutes asked. She had dirty blonde hair sheared off into a messy bob, and wide brown doe eyes that made her look a little like a wasteland kewpie doll. "That true?"

"Seriously?" I couldn't help it; I burst out laughing. I clapped a hand over my mouth to try and muffle my mirth, and wiped a few tears from my eyes.

"So it's not true, then," she said, sounding a little disappointed.

I shook my head. "Not even close, but hey, if that's the rumor going around, feel free to keep it going. I could use the street cred."

I felt Hancock drape his arm over my shoulders. "Why don't you head on home, ladies," he suggested. "I think Cass here and I need to talk a little business."

They shrugged and turned away, obviously unbothered. The blonde made sure to look back at me and wink.

"So are you this friendly with all your new residents, or are you just in an extra good mood tonight?" I asked Hancock pointedly, as his arm was still resting around my neck.

He chuckled, and pulled me in a little closer because he could. "Both. And I get the feelin' you weren't headed over to tell me bad news."

He was drunk, or high, or both. I could see it in the glassiness of his eyes and the looseness of his joints. But he was still enunciating fairly well and didn't seem to be in a particularly stabbity mood, so I decided not to worry too much.

"You've got yourself a new bartender," I said, unable to keep the note of bragginess from my tone. "I about doubled your profits tonight. _You're welcome_ , by the way."

"Never doubted ya." He released me so that he could light a cigarette that he pulled from his back pocket. "So you'll be stickin' around for a while, then. Guess that makes you an official citizen of Goodneighbor."

I smirked. "So does that mean I have to call you Boss, then, or Mr. Mayor? Or will 'sir' suffice?"

He grinned. "Wouldn't mind the last one, but Hancock'll do just fine. 'Mayor Hancock' if you're feelin' extra formal." There was a brief pause while he took a drag, and then he suddenly asked "So when are you gonna let me in on whatever it is you're hidin'?"

His tone was still friendly, but I felt my vibe go from casual to razor-sharp in an instant. I could feel the blood drain from my cheeks. I tilted my head down so that the brim of my hat shadowed my face, and tried to keep my muscles from tensing up.

"Hiding, huh?" I asked, bracing my shoulders against the doorframe and threading my thumbs through my belt loops.

He hummed an affirmative. "You dodged a few of my questions last night. Wasn't gonna bother with it at the time, but seein' as you're part of the community now…"

"What do you think I'd have to hide from you?"

He tilted his head, evaluating me. How a man who was clearly on the tail end of being turned-up could make me feel as transparent as a sheet of glass was a mystery.

Then he took a step forward… purposefully invading my space. I felt my breath catch as I was suddenly staring straight up into his onyx eyes, with little more than an inch or two between us. His arm was braced over my head, and he had angled himself in such a way as to make slipping away impossible. I was effectively pinned against the doorframe.

I hadn't pegged Hancock as much of an alpha personality type when I played with him in-game, but I knew a dominance play when I saw one. He was trying to pressure me into doing what he wanted… which in this case was spilling my guts.

"Why don't you tell me?"

His voice dropped into a lower octave that took away his usual Boston-whininess, leaving him with a tone that was nearly a growl. I felt the faintest surprise in the back of my mind when I felt my heart rate pick up… and not just because I was afraid.

 _Huh. Well, that's unexpected._

"I'm not a threat to you," I said, voice low.

He smirked. "Good to know, but that ain't what I asked."

I frowned, and crossed my arms so he couldn't see my hands shaking. "If you don't think I'm a threat, then why do you care?"

"I like to know who I'm workin' with," he said, running a finger along the brim of my hat, "and I'm not sure you are who you say you are."

I could've sighed with relief. My identity wasn't what I was trying to hide.

"Swing and a miss," I replied. "I'm exactly who I say I am: Cass Black from California, bartender and professional smartass."

"No, there's somethin' more'n that." He moved in a little closer, so that I could feel the warmth radiating from his body, and smell the sweetness that I recognized as berry mentats on his breath. "You've got secrets, and I wanna know what those are."

I arched an eyebrow. "Awful lot to ask on a second date. You didn't even get me liquored up this time."

"Wanna change that?"

I couldn't help but grin. Yeah, he was intimidating the _crap_ out of me, but fuck if he still wasn't charismatic as all hell. I somehow wanted to accept that invitation even as I was watching his body language to make sure I didn't end up bleeding out on the pavement. It was easy to see how he won over the hearts of his citizens… and how he had managed to stay in power for this long.

This conversation was headed to a dangerous place, though. I needed to turn the tables on his little power play before I ended up saying- or doing- something I'd regret. So I leaned in about as close as I could get, my lips just barely brushing his ear… or where his ear used to be.

"If you wanna know the few secrets I _might_ have, you're gonna have to work a hell of a lot harder than that," I purred. "That's not something I'd give away for free."

"Is that so?" He dropped his arm to brush my waist. "Now you've really got my atten-"

That little shift was all I needed. In an instant I spun away out of reach, biting at my lip to keep from either laughing or gasping.

"I'm sure you'll figure something out." I started backing away towards the Rexford. "I'm just a girl trying to survive in the wasteland and maybe find a way back home, Hancock. I'm not much more interesting than that." He wasn't following me, so I turned away and waved a hand over my shoulder. "You should probably get some rest. You seem a little… _wound up_. If you catch my drift."

I could still hear him chuckling as I disappeared through the doors of the Rexford. That was way too close; I needed to come up with an ironclad backstory if he was going to make a habit of pestering me for details about my life. Though maybe this had been more about showing me who's in charge rather than actually caring about who I was.

And why had I reacted the way I did? The adrenaline that still had my nerves vibrating hadn't come wholly from fear. Our little cat-and-mouse game had turned me on. The man wouldn't be out of place in an intensive burn ward or as an extra in a zombie flick, and yet I couldn't stop replaying our conversation over and over again in my head.

 _What are you getting yourself into, Cass?_


	8. Chapter 8

***Lonnnnng chapter, and will have the next posted soon. Was originally going to put this whole scene into just one ch. and decided to split it up because... yeah. Would've been way too much lol.**

 **Also, THANK YOUUU for all the comments and favs! 3***

* * *

I didn't see Hancock for three days after that. At least, not apart from fleeting glances. I told myself I wasn't avoiding him, because if I were, that would mean he had affected me in some way. Which he definitely had not. Right?

Instead, I put myself to work trying to fish for information. I made a point of chatting with the locals during daylight hours to get the scoop on what was happening with the rest of the Commonwealth, hoping for some tidbit of information that might shed light on what happened to me. A lot of people were still talking about the destruction of the Institute (and probably would for years to come). Apparently both the Brotherhood of Steel and the Railroad were still around, which meant that the Minutemen had been the main force in bringing those crazy scientists down… if events in this world accurately followed the game, anyway. Lots of talk of rebuilding, of relief as long-held fears of synth replacement were wiped away… but nothing that was ultimately helpful to me.

It was a long shot, I knew that. Whatever mad scientist or post-apocalyptic Goblin King that had magicked me into this mess probably wasn't going to run around spouting off about his success. But eventually someone, _somewhere_ had to know something, right? Nothing happens without a cause.

Puzzling mystery of my video game transcendence aside, I was finding life in Goodneighbor to be… surprisingly normal. I suppose I must be the poster child for adaptability; you've got to be able to get used to new things quick when your housing or job is never guaranteed, after all. Having a job that so closely reflected what I did in LA helped a lot. I'd get up around noonish, spend a few hours mingling with the locals, and then head over to the Third Rail as soon as it started to get dark.

I spent a few days going through this routine. But just like life in our home reality, nothing in this world stayed tranquil and easy for very long. I made it to my sixth night before I found myself waist-deep in trouble again.

I left the bar a little later that night, closer to 4:30ish than my usual 3:30-4am. As usual, the streets were quiet; even the Old State House was dark. It probably had something to do with the rain… it had been coming down pretty steadily since the early afternoon, and didn't show any signs of letting up. Hamm and Magnolia had left together about a half hour earlier, so I was alone. I stepped out onto the grates that separated the bar from the alleyway and was working myself up to stepping out into the deluge as several muted thumps met my ears.

At first I thought I imagined it. After all, it's not like my hearing would be the greatest in the middle of a storm. Or maybe it had been coming from one of the buildings around me. Odd noises were sort of par for the course in Goodneighbor and I was learning pretty fast that it was better to just not ask questions. But when I cocked my head and listened, I could hear the thumping come back; this time it was accompanied by a voice.

"Help me! Please, god, someone open this door!"

 _Oh fucking_ _ **great**_ _._ It was little hard to pick out the words over the dull roar of rainfall, but even if I hadn't gotten the specifics, the tone was clear enough. Someone was at the entrance of the city… and in trouble, by the sound of it. I looked over but the front courtyard was deserted. Ordinarily a guard would have been posted by the front gate, but clearly he had better things to do than stand around all night. I couldn't say that I blamed him; I wouldn't want to spend all evening getting soaked to the bone, either.

I hesitated. My first instinct was to go help, but was that wise? There were raiders and cannibals and all other manner of inhuman individuals out there.

But, I reasoned, if a troop of psychos really was waiting on Goodneighbor's doorstop, one door wouldn't really stop them from barging in… particularly one that wasn't locked at the moment. And there were many other targets that were easier to hit than the ultra-wary and very armed citizens of Goodneighbor.

Whoever it was waiting outside the door called out again, and I sighed. _One knight in shining armor, coming up._

When I pulled open the red door, a man all but fell inside at my feet. He was splattered pretty heavily with blood and dirt despite the rain, and shaking so hard that it was a wonder he could still stand. He grabbed at my legs, shying away from the door like something would drag him back out into the shadows.

"Oh thank god! Thank you so much!" He clung to me like a frightened child. "I thought I was done for."

I awkwardly eased myself away from his reach. I couldn't see any guns or sharp objects on him, but that didn't mean they weren't there. Plus, it was a little weird having a stranger attach himself to your legs like an overly affectionate octopus.

"Don't mention it." I crossed my arms and shook my wet hair out of my eyes. My hat was keeping most of the water out of my face, but if I spent much more time outdoors it wasn't going to matter.

"I don't think they followed me," he said, casting a fearful glance back at the now-closed gates. "I've been banging on that door for at least ten minutes."

"You, uh, do know that the door was _open_ , right?" I asked wryly. "It's not locked… that's more Diamond City's thing. That's just an option in case there's like a siege or something."

"I… oh." He shuffled his feet, but seemed to be in too much pain to really be embarrassed. "No, I didn't know."

I took a closer look at him. His hand was clutched around a cut that was still bleeding pretty badly on his left arm, and the skin over one of his cheekbones was split. Both eyes were blackening over a broken nose, and he held himself in such a way that made me think there was something wrong with ribs… probably a few cracked.

"What the hell happened to you?"

"I was looking for Diamond City," he explained, and then winced like talking hurt. "I got turned around, and then there were these people… they held me at gunpoint, took everything I had. Then they started beating me. I gave them everything they wanted, but it was like they did it for fun." He looked around in confusion. "Where am I anyway?"

I frowned. "Didn't you see the big glowing neon sign out front? Big red letters with an arrow, impossible to miss."

He shook his head. "It feels like I've been running all night. I just kept going until I saw that door. I guess I wasn't paying attention to much else." He gave me an up-and-down look and then nervously glanced around at the courtyard. "Though I'm guessing this _isn't_ Diamond City."

I snorted. "Yeah, we're sort of missing that giant green wall they're so famous for. You've landed in Goodneighbor, dude."

At that name, I saw what little blood he had left retreat from his face. He backed up a step or two, eyes wide, and coughed as his breath hitched.

"Goodneighbor?" he repeated, stammering. "I can't… I can't stay here!"

"You're not going anywhere," I said, stepping in front of the door. He went even more pale and I held up my palms hurriedly. "Fuck, sorry, didn't mean it like that. What I mean is, if you go back out there in the condition you're in, you'll be dead by morning. There are ferals and wild dogs and supermutants and god knows what else out there waiting to make a meal out of you." I arched a brow at him. "And, at the risk of sounding like a grandmother, you'd catch your death soaked to the skin like you are."

He watched me carefully, still shaken. "But this town-"

"Is not as bad as everyone makes it out to be." I sighed and fidgeted with the brim of my hat. "I guess I can take you to the doc… she's probably asleep but maybe if we bang on her front door long enough she'll come out to help. Looks like you could use a stimpak, maybe a few stitches."

His eyes went narrow with suspicion. "You'd help me? Why?"

I rolled my eyes and put a hand on my hip. "Because I'm not an inhumane, sociopathic asshole. Seriously. It's not like I'm really going out of my way, anyway. Amari's place is right next to the Rexford." I beckoned for him to follow me. "You can walk?"

"Yes."

I watched him take a couple of steps, but now that his adrenaline was winding down it was obvious he could feel his injuries a lot more. He favored his right leg pretty heavily. I watched him struggle for about two seconds before getting fed up and pulling his arm around my shoulders. I was down to help, but would like to get out of the rain _sometime_ before dawn.

"Thanks," he muttered.

"No problem." I began to walk with him towards the back of the settlement, one agonizingly slow, wet step at a time. "So how'd you get away from this group of thugs, anyway? No offense, but it doesn't seem like you're the fighting type."

"Flashbang grenade," he said, a little proudly. "Made one out of scrap parts that I picked up. Thought something like that might come in handy one day… guess I was right."

I was impressed. "A flashbang? That's pretty cool, actually. Where'd you learn to do that?"

"Erm… around. You know, you pick up things when you're drifting around the Commonwealth."

Lying. He was definitely lying. And doing a worse job of it than me, even.

"I guess so," I replied lightly. "Where'd you say you were from?"

"I didn't. But I was raised on a farm up north, closer to the Capital Wasteland. I left home with I was sixteen and have been wandering around doing odd jobs ever since." He gave a weak chuckle. "Still trying to find my place in the world, I guess."

I fought to keep my expression impassive. The story flowed off of his lips too easily, like it had been rehearsed. I glanced at him from the side; it was a little hard to tell beneath the blood and grime, but he didn't exactly look like someone who was raised on a farm. His hands were soft, like mine, and his skin didn't have that tanned-leather look that comes from spending countless hours in the sun. Also, anyone raised in the wasteland would know not to travel in raider-infested territory alone.

I stopped few feet in front of the door to the Memory Den.

"Where are you from, really?" I asked, giving him a stern look. "And if I were you, I'd change that story about the farm. No way anyone out here's gonna buy that."

"What? I'm not-"

"Dude, I am out here in the middle of the night getting fucking _drenched_ trying to help you out. Please don't waste my time." I stepped away so I could face him and folded my arms. "You're lying, and badly at that. So either you tell me the truth or I leave you here in the middle of the street."

He was going to object, but I glowered at him and he sighed. "Is it that obvious?"

"Not like I'm an expert, but you're about as close to a farmer as I am to a church-going honors student." The corner of my mouth tugged up a bit. "You look more like an accountant or IT-type… like a geek. Are you a synth?"

He started at my bluntness. "That's a dangerous question, as I understand it."

I shrugged. "Not to me. You're not replacing someone I love all _Invasion of the Body Snatchers_ style, so why should I care if you're a synth?"

There was a wry twist to his lips as he shook his head. "No, I'm a normal human. Not that you would be able to tell either way, right? You'd have to pick apart my brains to find the components." Then he looked a little worried. "Please don't do that, by the way."

His mention of synth components was what made it click for me. When I combined that with his casual mention of constructing a flashbang grenade and his bullshit backstory…

I gasped, reflexively jumping back. "You're from the Institute!"

"Shh!" He hissed. His expression became pleading. "Please, be quiet!"

"You're one of the scientists that evacuated before it blew!" I exclaimed, though I did drop my voice. "What in the hell are you doing out here?"

"Surviving," he replied bluntly. "I told the truth when I said I was trying to find Diamond City; I figured I have a better chance of making it there than anywhere else. I got the directions from some traders a while back, but I must've gotten something wrong along the way." He held up his hands. "Look, whatever you might have heard about the Institute… I just want to live. I'm not here to abduct your people or whatever other horror story you might be thinking. I'll leave, if that's what you want. Just please don't kill me."

"I'm not going to kill you." My fingers tangled in my hair under my hat. "I just need to think for a sec."

"My name is Gavin Finnes; I used to work as a junior engineer in Advanced Systems. Please, I just-"

" _Will you just shut the fuck up?_ "

His mouth snapped shut. I weighed my options. I didn't want to tell this guy to go to hell… it just wasn't in me to send someone out to be mauled by the apocalyptic horrors waiting in what used to be Boston, especially since he hadn't done anything to hurt me. But even with the Institute being a smoking crater in the ground, I wasn't comfortable with bringing him into the Memory Den. That was the center of synth recovery for the Railroad, apart from the old North Church, and I was pretty certain they were still rounding up escaped synths. But it wasn't like I had the supplies or know-how to be able to treat him on his own.

 _Well, fuck._

To give myself more time to think, I walked over to the Memory Den doors and rattled them a little. I knew they'd be locked, but I was putting on a show for Gavin's benefit. There was no reason to make him question why I suddenly didn't want to bring him in to see Dr. Amari.

I glanced around the empty street, brow furrowed, and my gaze fell on the Old State House.

"Goddammit," I swore, kicking viciously at a tin can as I stepped back up to Gavin and grabbed him arm. "Come on. Looks like we're going to meet the mayor."

"Mayor?"

"Yeah, Hancock."

"Wait!" Gavin dug in his heels to make me stop, which was surprising given how much difficulty he was having with walking. "You can't take me to see Hancock! He'll kill me! He was one of the people who helped that man, Shaun's father, destroy the Institute."

A justified fear. Hancock was an unspoken ally to the Railroad and had proudly turned Goodneighbor into the one settlement the Institute had been afraid to mess with.

This guy was going to get me killed. "Does he know your face?" I demanded.

"Well… no."

"Then keep your mouth fucking shut and follow my lead."

I could feel my teeth grinding as I hauled him up to the back door of the Old State House. Not only was I offering help to an ex-Institute scientist, but now apparently I was going to lie to Hancock about it. Something told me that I wouldn't find him very forgiving if he found out. I should've just ignored the knocking on the front gates and gone home for the night.

When we opened the door I saw Fahrenheit standing with one of the usual guards by the foot of the stairs. They were both leaning against the bannisters, clearly relaxed and chatting. I wasn't surprised to see her up; Fahrenheit kept odd hours, I think to keep the rest of Goodneighbor on its toes. People were less likely to cause trouble if they never knew when she might be waiting around the corner.

"I'm all for kicking the snot out of drunken idiots, but beating on customers isn't usually good for business," Fahrenheit remarked sardonically as her eyes alighted on us. "Hancock brought you on as a bartender, not a bouncer."

"Not my handiwork," I said tersely, huffing a little as I began to struggle under Gavin's weight. "This stray came in out of the rain… literally. He could use some help."

She raised her eyebrows, looking deeply unimpressed. "So? Go wake up Amari, then."

"No one's answering," I lied, praying she wouldn't catch it. My breath came out in a frustrated huff when she refused to move. "Come on, Fahre, seriously? This guy's either going die of infection or exposure, and I don't have the tools to help him on my own."

Finally, she rolled her eyes. "Fine. Don't get your panties in a twist, princess." She jerked her head towards the staircase. "Let's get him upstairs. Hancock oughta have something in his stash."

Despite her gruff tone, Fahrenheit came over and took Gavin's other arm over her shoulder to help out. Which was just as well, because he was starting to look scary pale and was leaning a little too heavily on me for my comfort. If he was feigning being too weak in order to avoid talking, he was doing a really fucking good job of it.

Fahrenheit helped me carry him up the stairs to the second floor, into the conference room where I'd had drinks with Hancock that first night. She dumped him unceremoniously on the couch and then crouched down to get a closer look at his wounds.

She whistled. "Ouch. He sure pissed someone off."

"Raiders," I replied, wringing the water out of my hair. I probably looked like I had fallen into a swimming pool. "Ripped off all his stuff and then beat the hell out of him."

"He's lucky he got away. They don't usually let their victims live."

"Tell me about it. Guess he's faster than he looks." I didn't mention the flashbang grenade… the less Fahre (and in turn, Hancock) knew about Gavin, the better.

She started to ease him out of his wet clothes, her movements precise and efficient. "Why don't you go wake up his royal highness," she said. "I'm going to see how much work we've got on our hands. His room's up on the top floor."

"Got it." I started back for the stairs, and then hesitated. "Uh… he's _alone_ , right? Like, I'm not gonna walk in on anything that'll give me permanent emotional scarring?"

Fahrenheit actually snorted, and I could see her fighting to keep a grin off her face. "Don't worry, precious, I'm pretty sure he's just asleep. Even Hancock has to wind down sometimes. Your delicate sensibilities should stay intact."

"Hey, better safe than sorry."

I scaled up to the third floor, wincing as my wet clothes rubbed uncomfortably against my skin. I was dying to get back to my room and dry off, but it didn't look like that was going to happen anytime soon. I distracted myself by imagining how I was going to get around the whole Institute problem. Feigning ignorance seemed like it would be my best bet.

The top floor was almost completely dark when I reached the landing. I had to strain my eyes to avoid tripping over random piles of junk (or sometimes what I was pretty sure were people, passed out haphazardly along the floor). I found a door towards the back and rapped my knuckles against it loudly.

"Hancock?" When there was no reply, I banged on it a little louder. "Hey! Special delivery for the mayor of Goodneighbor! Get up!"

I jumped almost a foot in the air when the door flew open beneath my hand. I hadn't even heard him move on the other side. Now suddenly he stood in the doorway with his knife in one hand and looking murderous.

"Who do you fucking think…" He blinked as he realized it was me, and then suddenly his entire demeanor changed. He flipped his knife through his fingers and leaned against the frame, a smirk replacing his scowl. "Well, ain't this a surprise."

"Do you have a moment to talk about our lord and savior Atom?" I asked sarcastically, and then bit my tongue when I actually looked at him. He was shirtless (still wearing pants though, thank _God_ ) and it was really hard not to check out what he looked like underneath that period costume he normally wore. I spared a quick moment to utter a silent prayer of thanks for the darkness, because I was probably beet red.

He tilted his head and looked me up and down. "Did I forget it was my birthday again?"

I followed his gaze and grimaced. My wet clothes stuck to me like a second skin, leaving not very much to the imagination. The whole drowned-rat look wasn't very sexy, but at this point I was pretty sure Hancock could pull an innuendo out of just about any situation.

"I know it's a challenge for you, but I need your mind out of the gutter for like two minutes," I replied, folding my arms over my chest. "I've got a guy downstairs who was roughed up pretty bad. Says it was raiders. I tried going to Amari but I couldn't get anyone to open the door… and I didn't really feel like standing out in the rain like an idiot all night. So you were my next best bet."

I had expected that he would have had a similar reaction to Fahre's… that he'd laugh, or brush me off, or ask what I thought he'd be able to do. But he did none of those things. He only nodded, expression suddenly sober, and turned back into his room.

"No time to waste, then." He grabbed a shirt from a pile of clothes on a chair and pulled it over his head, and then tossed one at my head. I caught it one-handed and cocked an eyebrow at him questioningly.

"This might take a while," he explained, rummaging around in a dilapidated chest-of-drawers. "Figure you might be more comfy in something a little less soaked." I swore I could hear a wink in his voice as he added, "Though if you'd rather just strip outta what you got on, that'd be fine by me…"

"I'll take the fucking shirt," I growled, and I could hear him laugh somewhere out of sight.

I pulled the shirt down over my head, not wholly certain how to react. Asking for help was one thing… wearing the man's clothes was another entirely. At least it wasn't the one with the frills that he normally sported with the rest of his costume; this was just a regular canvas button-down. The sleeves hung past my fingers and the chest was a little tight, but other than that it fit okay. It smelled like him, too… like cigarettes and gun powder. Most importantly, it was dry and considerably warmer than what I had on.

I shimmied out of my wet tank underneath the shirt (a bit of trick, since wet fabric doesn't like to cooperate) and pulled it out of the top just as Hancock walked back over with a small box in hand. I could feel him look me over even though it was hard to track his black eyes in the shadows; thankfully, he didn't pass comment.

"Come on," he said, with a quick jerk of his head. "Time to go do our good deed for the day."


	9. Chapter 9

***Soooo I'm going to stop saying that I'll have new chapters out soon, because every time I do that something happens to delay me Dx. So sorry guys! I'm clearly jinxing myself.**

 **As always, thank you SO much for the comments and favs! I love hearing from you guys!**

 **Hopefully you all like this new chapter... going to try and work in some action soon, I promise 3.***

* * *

"So this guy show up in the Rail or what?" Hancock asked, as we navigated our way across the crowded floor back to the stairs.

"Heard him banging on the front gate, actually," I said, busying myself with rolling up my sleeves of his shirt so that I could actually use my hands. "Guess he was so freaked he didn't think to just, you know, open the door. Doesn't seem like he's very familiar with the area."

"No one followed him in?"

I shook my head. "He was alone. He said the raiders took all his stuff, so they already got what they wanted… I guess they figured he wasn't worth the chase."

He exhaled in a curious huff. "Kinda surprised they let him go." His fingers tapped against the little box he carried. "He have anything on him?"

"You mean weapons? None, unless he's hiding them someplace _very_ uncomfortable," I said, and he chuckled. "Guy was drenched when I found him and had nothing but the clothes on his back."

We had reached the second floor. Fahrenheit was crouched next to Gavin, saying something in a low voice, but straightened up when we walked in. She looked at me and arched an eyebrow, her eyes pointedly dropping to my- that is, Hancock's- shirt. I rolled my eyes and casually flipped her off as Hancock strolled over to the scientist.

"Took you long enough," she said. "Think you two got it handled? 'Cuz I've got better things to do than sit around and play doctor."

"Lurking around looking intimidating is a full-time job," I agreed in mock sympathy.

The corner of her mouth tugged up. "I'd say it's what I do best, but I think we all know that isn't true." She tapped Gavin on the head as she walked out. "Next time hire some friends if you're going to walk around lost like an idiot."

Gavin hunched under her touch. "I'll try to remember that."

With Fahrenheit out of the room, Gavin turned his attention to us. I didn't miss the fearful tension that rippled through the scientist's body, and I'm sure Hancock didn't either. But true to form, Hancock gave no sign that he'd noticed, apart from upping his usual charm. He sauntered over to Gavin and flashed him a quick grin.

"So you're the reason my bartender dragged me out bed," he stated in a cheerful tone. Gavin's eyes widened, but Hancock waved his hand. "Don't worry about it. Been woken up by a hell of a lot worse. Looks like you had a pretty rough night, brother. The name's Hancock."

"I know who you are," Gavin murmured, almost like he could hardly dare to reply.

Hancock's smile broadened. "Good to hear. The rumors are all true." I stifled a groan, and Hancock dropped into a crouch so he was on level with Gavin. "Guess it's your lucky night. So who'd you piss off?"

"I don't know…" Gavin winced, breath hissing through his teeth. "I don't know who they were."

It was obvious talking pained him. Hell, I hurt just _looking_ at him. Fahrenheit had gotten him out of his shirt, and in addition to the injuries I'd seen out on the street, Gavin's torso was a mess of angry bruises. He had a number of cuts and lacerations too, including a pretty decent slash across his chest that would need stitches. It was still bleeding… nasty, but not too deep, hopefully.

Hancock had started to take things out the little box he'd brought: a stimpak, a vial of what I was pretty sure was Med-X, a hooked needle, a few neatly torn squares of cotton, and string. I was almost a little surprised that he'd keep a tiny first aid kit on hand like that. Not that I thought he wouldn't need one; even when he wasn't clearing out the riffraff from the Commonwealth, I was certain he got into his fair share of scraps and scuffles here in Goodneighbor. It was the preparedness that I hadn't anticipated. It showed a hint of a forward-thinking attitude that I hadn't associated with him before. Hell, it was almost downright _responsible_.

My mind was beginning to drift, so I brought myself back into the present with a sharp shake. I looked around the room and tried to think of a way to be useful. There were a couple of liquor bottles sitting by the cupboards at the back of the room; I snagged one that was still mostly full of vodka. Not the best method of sanitization, but maybe Gavin wouldn't end up with tetanus or gangrene or whatever it was that you could get from dirty equipment. Or dirt. Or whatever ominous contaminants that had been on blade that cut him.

Yuck.

"So how'd you get away from a group of raiders anyway?" Hancock asked him. "No weapons… and no offense, but you don't exactly look like a Combat Zone veteran. Would take some serious skill to get outta a scrap like that."

 _Don't mention the flashbang grenade, don't mention the flashbang grenade_ , I thought furiously as I perched on the arm of the opposite couch.

Gavin's eyes just barely flickered to me. "One of them dropped his knife while they were, uh, beating me. I managed to get it and stab him… somewhere. I honestly didn't look. He startled the other two when he screamed, and I used that as my chance to run." He shuddered. "They shot at me, but I think they were high on something, because their aim wasn't very good." He exhaled shakily. "Think I probably used up my life's supply of luck in that escape."

"No kidding," Hancock agreed. "Bet they hit the Jet one too many times. Can make you twitchy if you use it enough. Amateurs." Then he rocked back on his heels and studied Gavin's injuries. "Stimpak oughta take care of most of this… that cut needs to be stitched up first though, or it ain't gonna heal right. That'll need to be set, too." He tapped next to the space his nose had left.

"That's all, huh?" Gavin asked weakly. He was as pale as a ghost, and I could see his hands trembling.

"It's gonna hurt." Hancock picked up one of the syringes and gave it a little shake. "I've got some Med-X here… that'll deaden the pain. I don't make a habit of givin' out chems for free, but seein' as Cass was the one who dragged me outta bed to help you, I'm sure she'll figure out a way to pay me back."

He winked at me over his shoulder, and I dropped my head into my hand with a groan. Like I really needed to be in his debt any more than I already was. When I raised my head again, Gavin was watching me with a wrinkled brow and wide eyes.

I sighed. "Look, dude, I promise that if anyone here wanted you dead, we wouldn't need to dope you up to do it. I would've just left your ass out in the rain. You have my word that you're safe." When he still looked concerned, I added, "And I'll be just fine. I can handle the good mayor."

Hancock glanced sidelong at me with the corner of his mouth pulled up. "Hmm. Is that an open offer?"

I rolled my eyes. "Better stay focused on the task at hand, _mayor._ Not sure that multitasking's your forte."

"Ouch. You hearin' this?" he asked Gavin. "First she wakes me up in the middle of the night, and then she insults me after I agree to help her out. Women, eh?"

I kicked at his boot. "You'll live. And you keep women like Fahre around, so I'm pretty sure you enjoy the abuse."

He chuckled, and his dark eyes twinkled wickedly. "What's life without a few kinks?"

My mouth opened and closed without saying anything. This was verging into a dangerous area of conversation… and I did _not_ need to be distracted thinking about what kind of kinks Hancock may or may not have.

Shit, too late.

As I struggled to reign in my thoughts and regain some vestige of my pride, Hancock took Gavin's arm and effortlessly slid the Med-X into the vein at his elbow. It happened so quickly I don't think Gavin noticed until he felt the pinch of the needle. Our little banter session had achieved at least that much. It hadn't been intentional on my part, but part of me wondered if Hancock had played along to help put the scientist at ease. Probably.

Within seconds, Gavin's gaze went hazy and his body began to slump. He didn't fall asleep - at least not right away - but his heavy-lidded expression told me he'd likely be there soon.

"How're you with your hands?" Hancock asked me.

I raised an eyebrow at him. "You'd better be asking if I've ever stitched up a wound before."

"Well now that you mention it-"

"The answer is no."

He grinned at my brusque tone. "That's alright. Just do me a favor and pinch the edges of that gash closed? It'll go faster that way."

I wasn't incredibly keen on the idea of handling another person's open wounds without gloves or any real antiseptic supplies, but it wasn't like I could say no. I poured a little of the vodka on the cut (Gavin didn't even flinch, so the Med-X was clearly doing its job) and then splashed a little on my hands for good measure. I took a quick swig to steady myself before setting the bottle down.

"Squeamish?" Hancock asked, amused. I just made a face at him in response. He threaded the hooked needle with the string and expertly began to stitch Gavin's chest up while I leaned over a bit awkwardly from the back of the couch, to avoid getting in his way.

Gavin was still kind of awake, so Hancock kept chatting as he worked.

"So where you from, kid?" he asked conversationally.

I tried not to look at what he was doing; I hadn't ever doctored someone who was suffering from anything worse than a bad hangover, and I'll admit that I was a bit squicked. I could handle my own blood and bodily fluids well enough; it was when they were spilling out of other people that I got uneasy. Mercifully, Hancock appeared to know what he was doing and was making pretty good time… not like I'd really know the difference.

"Capital Wasteland," Gavin murmured, eyes unfocused. "I was... engineer..."

I tried to mask the tension that suddenly whipcracked up my spine. He was in danger of getting his fake story mixed up with the real one.

"Like for the Brotherhood of Steel?" I asked quickly. "I heard they have a chapter out there."

Hancock made a small noise. "Doesn't seem like enough of an asshole to run with that crew."

Gavin lacked a lot of common sense, but he was intelligent enough to pick up on my redirect even through his painkiller haze.

"With them," he agreed with me. "For resources. Mostly wanted... to find a way to create power. Reliable power, for... settlements. Not nuclear."

That didn't surprise me. The Institute's nuclear reactor- which Gavin may well have been a part of designing- was what enabled their ultimate downfall. Not a dead giveaway for being from Shaun's collection of kooks, though. A lot of people in this world were wary of nuclear _anything_ after the bombs torched the planet.

"Any luck with that? Or is that how you ended up out here?" Hancock asked.

"Solar... a possibility," Gavin said. He was trying valiantly to stay awake, but his eyes had drifted shut. Between the drugs and his obvious exhaustion, I was surprised he had been conscious for as long as he had. He mumbled something else that neither of us could quite catch before surrendering.

"Clean, infinitely renewable energy instead of a power source that could plunge us into a second apocalypse," I muttered. "Imagine that."

"You can use the sun to power shit?" Hancock asked interestedly.

"Easily. All you need to do is create some panels that can absorb light particles from the sun and…"

I trailed off, realizing that Hancock had completely stopped to stare at me. I snapped my mouth shut and ducked my head; I could've slapped myself in the face if my hands weren't covered in Gavin's blood.

"You know how to do that?" he asked incredulously.

"Not really." _Idiot idiot idiot idiot!_ "There were, uh, some people back in California who had their homes powered with solar energy. I have the general idea about how it works, but I couldn't begin to fathom how to construct that sort of thing. Science and math are not my specialties." I shrugged, attempting to be nonchalant. "Renewable energy is kind of a thing over there. No one wants a repeat of the Great War, I guess."

I was banking all of that on the hope that he knew next to nothing about the current state of the West Coast… and would hopefully never find out. I _needed_ to be more careful.

Hancock hummed. "Too bad. Lotta people could use that sorta thing out here."

He had finished stitching up Gavin's chest, much to my relief. I used a little more of the vodka to scrub the blood off my hands; I'd heat up some water and scrub properly with soap when I got back to my room. I was wiping my hands off on my mostly-dry jeans when a _crunch_ sent shudders and goosebumps across my entire body.

"Christ, could you warn me before doing that?" I demanded. Hancock had deftly reset Gavin's broken nose so that it looked more or less normal, and the noise alone had set my teeth on edge. "That's like hearing someone crack their knuckles but a hundred times worse."

"Didn't take you for the fussy type," he replied. He plunged the stimpak into the crook of Gavin's neck, which of course made me shudder and flinch again.

I narrowed my eyes at him. "I'm not _fussy_. That's just _gross_." I dropped my eyes back to Gavin, who was now sleeping peacefully and already looking much better. "He'll be okay now?"

Hancock nodded. "Yeah, he should be fine in a couple of hours."

"Good."

I stepped over to the window, noticing that the rain had stopped. I pushed it open with a little difficulty and gratefully took a big breath; the clean, cool air was a very welcome change from the stuffy room.

"Christ, it's already dawn," I remarked, fighting back a yawn. "I'm going to be dead on my feet unless I catch some zzz's."

I looked over to see Hancock standing next to me, shoulder propped up against the wall. He had his knife out, using the point to idly clean his fingernails- I hadn't even realized he'd had it on him. Where had he even been keeping it?

Never mind, I didn't want to know.

"Why'd you help him?" he asked.

"Huh?"

Hancock jerked his head back to where Gavin slept peacefully. "What made you decide to help him? Not many people would've gone outta their way to help a stranger in the middle of the night… especially not when it's pourin' rain. And for all you know he could've been waiting to gut ya the instant you dropped your guard." He watched my face carefully. "You don't know him, don't owe him anything. Why'd you do it?"

I frowned. "Uh, I don't know… because I'm not a heartless asshole? Good karma and all that?" Then I shrugged. "Call it paying it forward, if you want. You could've asked the same thing of Wiseman when he decided to take me in. I didn't feel like I could walk away."

"Didja know he's from the Institute?"

Time stopped for about two seconds. I felt like someone sucked the air out of my lungs. Had he known the whole time? Did he know that I knew? That knife in his hands was suddenly about a thousand times more intimidating.

"The Institute?" I pushed my hair back, trying to seem casual, and cursed internally when my fingers got tangled in my rain-snarled hair. _Smooth, Cass_. "I've heard a few people mention that now."

"That's right; I keep forgettin' you ain't from around here," he said, and it took everything I had not to sigh with relief. "Yeah, they're a bunch of scientists who thought it was fun to live underground and treat the people up here like their own personal lab rats. I helped a friend take 'em out a few months ago, but he let a lot of them evacuate before he turned their whole setup into a smoking hole in the ground. Pretty sure this is one of them that got out."

"What makes you say that?"

"Couple a' things. The way he talked- all clear and crisp, educated-like. They all talk like that… the ones I met, anyway. Nowhere near scarred or rough enough to be a drifter. Looks like he lost some weight recently, too." His eyes flickered up to me. "You didn't think he seemed off?"

"I…"

I was spared from fabricating another lie by a knock over by the door. We both looked to see two men standing on the other side of the room. They were both youngish, not older than their early thirties. I recognized one as Robert MacCready right away; the duster, beard, and long rifle slung over his shoulder were unmistakable. But it was the other one I couldn't take my eyes off of. He wasn't wearing a blue vault suit anymore, but there was no mistaking who it was.

I was looking at my Sole Survivor.


	10. Chapter 10

***I think I completely rewrote this chapter at least three or four times. Thank you guys for being so patient! 3***

* * *

I'd never really experienced the whole spinning-room sensation without being drunk, but I'd be damned if the floor wasn't swimming beneath my feet now.

Nate, my fucking _Sole Survivor_ , was standing in front of me. Not a pre-written character with his own ambitions and motivations. Not the stock design that everyone's presented with at the start of the game. This was the SoSu that _I_ had created. He was a little scruffier, sure, but every other detail was exactly the same: eye color, lips, hair, build. He even had the little scars that I'd put across his left eyebrow and down the right side of his jaw. It was uncanny.

 _I built a fucking human being in a character generator. Oh. My. God._

"Hey, Hancock," Nate said, with a small, friendly smile. "We're not interrupting anything, are we?"

Hancock grinned. "Not at all, vaultie. What brings you two to town?"

I watched him stride across the room to clasp hands with Nate and thump MacCready playfully on the shoulder. I'm not sure what my expression looked like, but inside I definitely felt like I was either going to throw up or pass out. After nearly a whole day without sleep and playing wasteland nurse with Gavin, I was at my limit for weird shit.

"Helping out the settlers down in Hangman's Alley with a feral problem, and we needed to stock up on some supplies," Nate explained. "Couldn't pass through without stopping by. Ran into Fahrenheit at the gate… she's as charming as ever."

"We swung by Diamond City too. Piper sends her regards," MacCready added, smirking.

Hancock chuckled. "I'll bet she does."

Nate glanced over at Gavin and then up at me. "So who're your friends?"

 _Shit_. I scrambled internally to try to get myself together. I couldn't very easily explain my reaction away if I was staring at Nate like he was the ghost of my long-dead grandfather or something. I had to be able to take this in my stride like I did with everything else about this world… at least until I could get away to freak out in private.

"I'm Cass," I blurted, jerking into motion a little abruptly. I cleared my throat and offered what I hoped was an apologetic smile. "Sorry, long night. Kinda zoned out for a minute there."

"Yeah, looks like it," MacCready remarked, arching an eyebrow at Gavin, who was still sleeping through all of this. Most of his bruises had already faded away, but he was still a pretty sorry sight.

"Ain't no party like a Goodneighbor party!" I replied, a touch _too_ enthusiastically. They all looked at me like I had started speaking in Cantonese; my cheeks flushed and I ducked my head. _Rein it in, Cass._

"Sorry. I think I'm at the point of sleep deprivation where I start getting weird," I said, still talking too quickly. I added a chuckle to try to sound more natural and immediately regretted it. "Listen, I'm dead on my feet. I'll, uh, just leave you three to catch up."

I started for the door, but Hancock stuck a leg out in my path to stop me.

"Runnin' off so soon?"

 _Don't panic. He's not trying to interrogate you._

I tried to arrange my features in a flippant expression. "If you want me to be able to actually function in the bar tonight, then yes." An impulse hit me, and I smiled at Nate and MacCready. "If you guys are around, you should come by. I'll be a little less socially awkward after some sleep, and I'll even get you a couple drinks on the house… so long as you don't tell my boss."

I winked, and Hancock shoved me lightly.

"You little shit," he said, chuckling.

"Deal," MacCready said with a grin. "It'd be nice to kick back in the Rail again. I've even sort of missed that grumpy old robot."

My smile turned a little more genuine as my anxiety ebbed. "Then it's a date."

Nate stopped me again before I could leave, and reached out to shake my hand.

"Nice meeting you, Cass."

I accepted the handshake automatically, noting the hint of military formality that Nate showed in the gesture. It was meant to be friendly, surely, but I felt an uncomfortable pull in my gut when his eyes marked the tattoos on my forearm. More than anyone else, he'd be likely to recognize that my ink wasn't the result of improvised stick-and-poke jobs… he would have seen at least a few real tattoos in his pre-war life. It could tip him off that I wasn't a normal wastelander. He didn't say anything, though. He simply held on for another second longer and then released me with a small smile.

I gave them all a quick nod and then disappeared down the stairs before they could stop me again. Nate existing as my Sole Survivor complicated things; I needed some time to try to think this all through. After I had gotten some sleep first, though. At the moment my brain felt like so much cotton fluff between my ears; I couldn't think my way out of a paper bag, let alone an existential crisis. I needed to be firing on all cylinders if I was going to figure this one out.

* * *

Several hours of (restless) sleep later, and I still wasn't any closer to making heads or tails of _my_ Nate walking around in the flesh. Out of all the crazy things that I'd experienced so far, this was definitely the most insane. I mean, either my character looking exactly like the Sole Survivor here was an unbelievable coincidence, or I had some kind of god-level influence in his creation that I was nowhere near comfortable with accepting.

I mean, how did that even work, exactly? Logically Nate would have had an entire life before the events of the game started. Did my choices as his character just kick in after he made it to the vault? Was he a different person before I stepped in, so to speak? And I designed his appearance… did that mean I had some effect on his family as well, since that's where his genes would have come from? Trying to puzzle it all out was like disappearing down a Wikipedia black hole; I was only creating more questions than answers.

I rolled over on my lumpy mattress and tried to be objective. This latest twist in the nuclear Land of Oz didn't necessarily impede my ability to find a way home, no matter how disquieting it might be. What I _really_ needed to focus on was discovering where to find the Wizard… and how I was going to convince him to reverse whatever hocus-pocus he did to get me here.

Come to think of it, solving the mystery of Nate might be the easier task of the two.

I'm not certain how much longer I dozed… I drifted in between brainstorming and restless sleep, so it could've been minutes or hours. All I know is that an indeterminate amount of time later, someone woke me up by pounding on my door, _hard_.

"Fuck!" I yelped, startled by the noise. I jerked to my feet… or would have, if I hadn't been burrito'd in a blanket. So instead I lurched upwards like a drunken caterpillar and crashed to the ground, knocking over the nightstand next to my bed in the process.

 _I'm really, really glad no one was here to see that._

There was another few pounds on the door. Whoever it was clearly didn't know that patience was a virtue… especially when dealing with a still-groggy me. I groaned and stiffly unraveled myself so that I could get up to answer.

"Hancock, if this is your idea of getting back at me for last night, I've got a baseball bat I'd like you to meet," I grumbled at the door. "Also, you lost points on originality."

I slid the lock open. The instant that _click_ registered in the air, the door burst inwards. I stumbled back to avoid getting slammed in the face, and tripped over the blanket I'd left on the ground behind me. I hit the ground a second time with a steady stream of swearwords coming out of my mouth.

"What is your fucking probl…. Oh." I blinked up in surprise at the individuals standing in front of me. "Oh _shit_."

"Grab her!"

I scrambled backwards, pulling my ankle out of reach just as one of the intruders tried to snag it. These men were very clearly not friendly. There were three of them, and they were all dressed in the same olive-green fatigues. I didn't spend a lot of time checking them out, but they had hardened expressions that told me they weren't dicking around (if, you know, breaking into my room wasn't already enough of a clue).

I pushed myself to my feet and ran back into my room, around the side of my bed. I had a nail-studded baseball bat that I'd bought off of KLEO with some tips shortly after I began working at the Third Rail… my knife was handy and all, but I'd wanted something with a little more oomph, just in case. I still wasn't great with a gun, but I'd briefly experimented with softball during my formative years. I could swing a bat a lot more effectively than I could put a bullet through a target.

I wrapped my hand around the base of the bat just as the three men shoved through the narrow entry. I could see that they were carrying guns, but they didn't have them drawn… which meant they didn't want to kill me, or they thought they could take me down without them. Not a far-fetched assumption on their part, really.

They didn't bother with trying to talk me into dropping my weapon, which told me they were professionals. They knew as much as I did that I wasn't going to give up or trust them, and weren't going to waste time pretending otherwise. They split up to corner me, each one moving in a little closer with every breath. I contemplated yelling out for help, but knew it wouldn't do me much good. There was no one within earshot who would be willing to take on three armed men just to save my ass.

When the man to my right (let's call him Jackass #1) stepped within range of my bat, I swung. He dropped to the ground and I missed him by centimeters (though my bat made a nice hole in the wall). Jackass #2 darted in from my left and cracked what felt like a security baton across my ribs. Searing pain lanced up my chest and around my back; suddenly I couldn't get a whole breath in. I tried to swing my bat again, but the first guy blocked it easily and yanked it out of my hands. The guy on my left backhanded me across the face (I _literally_ saw stars), and while I was still dazed he grabbed me by the neck and flung me down onto bed.

"That was almost too easy," middle guy said contemptuously. He'd done nothing but stand there the entire time, so I pegged him as the leader… a.k.a. Captain Jackass.

I could feel the two men behind me begin to tie my wrists and ankles together. I began to thrash and struggle until one of them pinned a knee or elbow against the back of my throat.

"Let me go!" I gasped. It wasn't very threatening, but I wasn't getting a whole lot of air into my lungs at the moment. "What the fuck do you dickless wonders want?"

I really needed to work on how mouthy I got when I was scared.

"Don't act like you don't know, synth," Captain Jackass sneered. _Synth? What the fuck?_ "You've got a hell of a lot of caps on your head."

"You got the wrong girl, Einstein." I couldn't help but wince as I spoke; my ribs were on _fire_. "Not a synth."

El Capitan put a leg up on the end of the bed and leaned in closer to me. "Bounty's on a young girl, pale skin, dark hair…"

"Congrats, you just described about 40% of the population."

"… and covered in tattoos."

Well, shit.

"These things?" I wiggled uncomfortably; they were pulling those bindings _awfully_ tight. "Not real. Drew them on last night for funsies."

He reached forward suddenly. A tiny yelp escaped me when he grabbed a fistful of my hair and pulled my head back to make me look up at him.

"You're gonna make us a lot of caps, synth," he sneered. "And the bounty said alive, but didn't say shit about what condition to bring you in. So unless you'd like me to have these boys beat you within an inch of your stolen life, you oughta start being a little nicer to me."

I spit at him. It seemed like the thing to do; he was pissing me off something fierce, and I didn't want him to see how terrified I actually was. That earned me another backhand (this time across the other cheek, so at least they were keeping things symmetrical). Then a ball of cloth was stuffed into my mouth while another was wrapped around my face.

"That oughta shut her up," one of the others said… not sure if it was #1 or #2.

"Let's get out here, then," Captain Jackass said, dusting off his hands like he'd done a hard day's work. "I wanna get out of here before we run into that ghoul mayor."

"Town really went to shit after he killed Vic."

"Yeah, no kidding."

#1 picked me up and threw me over his shoulder. I struggled a bit, but there was no real point to it; I was trussed up like a Thanksgiving turkey. Even if I managed to wiggle myself out of his grip, I'd just end up on the floor… and I already had enough bruises.

They started to walk out, chatting casually like this was something they did every day (then again, it probably was). I was feeling steadily more panicked with each step they took. Where the hell were they taking me? Who would put a bounty out on my head? I was unknown in the Commonwealth at large, and even those who knew me didn't know that there was anything unusual or special about me. I hadn't seriously wronged anyone that I knew of. And why would they think I was a synth?

They reached the hotel lobby. None of the usuals- Fred, Rufus, or Clair- were around, which wasn't surprising. They'd probably seen these guys come in and lit out before they could get dragged into any trouble. But we'd only crossed about halfway through the room when all three kidnappers came to a stop.

"Well, well, well… what's goin' on here?"

I was so relieved to hear that familiar raspy voice that I could've cried. I'd be mortified that I'd been so easily subdued and snatched up later, but right now I'd take whatever help I could get.

I heard #1 swear quietly under his breath, and Captain Jackass stepped forward.

"Nothing to see here, Hancock," he said, in a tone that was very friendly-but-not. "Just a little Gunner business. Not any of your concern."

"Is that so?"

"Just a little piece of ass that needs to be taken home," Captain continued. He slapped my butt to illustrate his point as he talked; I couldn't fight back, but managed to scream "MOTHERFUCKER" loud enough to make it audibly past the gag.

"Huh." I couldn't see Hancock, but I could hear the cold tone his voice. "Now, the way I see it, you're roughin' up one of _my_ citizens, on _my_ turf. So I'd say that makes it absolutely my concern."

I could hear the click of the safety going off on a gun.

"And I'm not real fond of kidnapping, myself," came Nate's voice. "What's she done to you?"

"There's a bounty out of her head," Captain Jackass explained tersely. "A big one. She's more trouble than she's worth to you, _mayor_. You don't wanna pick a fight with the Gunners over some little synth bitch."

I could hear the tinkle of breaking glass, and a millisecond later #2 jerked back and fell to the ground. I could see a neat little hole in his forehead; someone had blown his brains out. Then there was the louder pop of Nate's rifle going off. #1 shouted in pain as his leg buckled; he lost his grip and dropped me to the ground.

"WHAT THE FUCK?!" Captain Jackass yelled, whipping his gun around to the front. #1 simply stayed down, clutching at his leg. It looked like Nate had kneecapped him.

"Yeah, that'd be MacCready," Nate said dispassionately. "Guess he's still a little pissed at you guys for making his life hell for so many years."

"Then what's your excuse?" Captain demanded.

Nate shrugged. "Finger slipped."

Captain Jackass glowered. "You two better drop the guns and call off that turncoat sonofabitch right now or I swear to god-"

Nate's rifle rang out again, and Captain Jackass dropped to the floor. It was so quick that the merc didn't even have time to squeeze his own trigger.

"Hey, I had that one covered," Hancock complained, but he was grinning. "Guess that just leaves one…"

#1 held up bloodstained hands. "I give! We weren't gonna get paid _that_ much."

Hancock smirked. "Smart choice." He glanced over his shoulder as Fahrenheit walked in, looking ready for a fight but also extremely unimpressed at the same time. "Find anything?"

"It was just these three," she said, kicking at the boot of Captain Jackass's body. Then she looked over at me and snickered. "They catch you on an off day there, princess?"

My response was muffled by the gag, but I know she got the gist by the way her grin broadened.

"Do me a favor, Fahre, and send someone to clean this mess up," Hancock said, slinging his shotgun back around his hips. "Clair'll gut me for makin' a mess of her lobby. And why don't you take this asshole with you… have a little chat about who sent them, and why."

Fahrenheit could have easily sprouted fangs, and it wouldn't have looked out of place with her expression.

"My pleasure."

She hauled Jackass #1 up by the armpits, making him whimper in pain as she jostled his injured leg. Then she half-dragged/half-steered him out the door, humming tunelessly to herself as she did so.

Hancock crouched next to me. He took in my appearance with a quick sweep of his eyes; I could see the muscles tighten in his jaw when he did. I was sure that I looked just as wonderful as I felt, if not worse.

"Need a little help with that, doll?" he asked. He gently reached behind my head to untie my gag; his thumbs just barely brushed over my cheekbones, and I winced as the contact stung.

"Are you alright?" Nate asked concernedly. "Those guys were real pieces of work."

"Cowardly, cocksucking mouthbreathers!" I growled, stretching my aching jaw as Hancock used his knife to slit the bindings on my wrists and ankles. "Who the fuck brings three guys to ambush one girl?"

"Good question," Nate murmured.

Hancock pulled me to my feet. I crossed my arms, but couldn't really hide how much I was shaking. Anger and adrenaline had dulled the worst of the trauma, but now that the excitement was over I could feel the shock starting to creep through my brain. I couldn't stop staring at the bodies of the two mercs.

"Hey." Hancock bumped my shoulder, and nodded his head towards the door. "Whattya say we grab a drink. Looks like you could use one."


	11. Chapter 11

***HOLY. CRAP. I don't think I've ever had so much trouble writing a single chapter before. Yeesh!**

 **Anyway, here's an early holiday present for you all lol. This chapter has literally been my arch-nemesis for the past month. I still kind of hate it, but it's necessary to further the plot.**

 **As always, thanks to you all for the favs/bookmarks/ comments! Your feedback is IMMENSELY helpful and also keeps me motivated 3. You guys rock my socks off.***

* * *

"So… a synth, huh?"

We were in the back room of the Third Rail. Nate had stayed out in the main bar with MacCready, probably with the intention of making me feel more comfortable (after all, no one wants to deal with the aftermath of a traumatic event with strangers… even those that just saved your sorry ass). One some level I appreciated the courtesy, but really, all that did was set me even more on edge. Now I was alone with Hancock with no other buffers or distractions, and I had to very swiftly come up with an explanation for why they'd had to kill two men and injure a third for me.

The only problem was that I didn't understand it fully myself.

"I am _not_ a synth," I objected, a little waspishly (the liquor that Hancock had gotten Charlie to bring over wasn't doing much to improve my mood). "I'd think I'd know if I was a robot, or android, or whatever. The only metal in my head is jewelry, dude."

Hancock dropped onto the couch and lit a cigarette in the same motion. "If that's the case, then I'm gonna need you to start talkin'."

"What do you want me to say?" I snapped. "My bad that some Gunners kicked my ass across the Rexford and tied me up like a fucking Christmas present? Sorry you didn't get an invite?"

I was still scared shitless, and it was putting me on the defensive. It wasn't just the fact that someone was putting a bounty on my head- though that was more than enough on its own- but also the fact that Hancock was demanding an explanation that I didn't know how to give. And honestly, he was right to. I would've been doing the exact same thing had our roles been switched. But what could I say?

Hancock didn't reply to my snark right away- just gave me a bit of a look- and I sighed, my fingers worrying the tangles in my hair.

"I'm sorry," I apologized as sincerely as I could, after taking a deep breath. "You're the last person I should be bitching out. You have every right to be pissed."

"Pissed?" Hancock repeated, and shook his head. "Sister, that was barely enough to liven up my afternoon, 'specially since Nate and Mac took all three out before I had a chance to get a shot in." He leaned back against the couch, and watched me evaluatively. "But I _do_ think it's time that we stop pretendin' you're some little nobody."

"I'm not-"

"Nobody puts out a bounty with the Gunners unless they mean serious business," Hancock stated. "And those fucks usually know better than to hassle anyone in my town… at least not without talkin' to me first. The fact that they went straight for you makes me think the payoff must be pretty big. So what'd ya do?"

"Nothing!" I threw up my hands, and then winced as my shoulder throbbed; I'd landed on it pretty hard when that Gunner had dropped me. "I haven't done a single goddamn thing to anyone in this fucking wasteland. Well, except whatshisface my first night in town, but I'm pretty sure this wasn't him." I paused, racking my brain. "At least, I don't think I've done anything."

"You don't _think_?"

"I can't remember, okay?" I said, temper flaring once more.

Hancock took a leisurely drag off his cigarette. "Can't, or won't?"

" _Can't_." I crossed my arms and could feel a frown twisting my lips. "Look, I appreciate the assist and all, really I do. I would've been dead meat if you guys hadn't intervened. But I can't give you an explanation for what happened."

"You will if you wanna keep livin' in this town," Hancock replied. He was still relaxed, arms sprawled along the back of the couch, but I could hear the steel slip into his voice.

In response, I only became more stubborn. I was never much good with ultimatums.

"Really? Fine. Then I'll just fucking leave." I regretted the words almost as soon as they were out of my mouth, but was too wound up to stop. I moved towards the door. "Probably for the best anyway…"

In an instant Hancock was blocking my path, standing in the doorway with a sharp look in his eyes. I wanted to flinch back, but held my ground. It didn't exactly scare me, but after what I'd just been through the sudden proximity was jarring.

"I didn't say we were finished."

I glared up at him. "I wasn't asking for your permission."

The corner of his mouth tugged up just slightly as amusement passed over his face. _Is he laughing at me?_

"What's so bad you can't tell anyone else about it, huh? Who'd ya kill?"

"Christ, I haven't fucking _killed_ anyone." I shook my head. Couldn't he just let this alone? "It's just… it's not 'bad,' exactly. You just wouldn't be able to understand."

"Try me."

 _For fuck's sake_. "No."

He folded his arms and smirked. "Sister, I can keep this up all day."

I bared my teeth at him. "Yeah, and you're aggravating the ever-living shit out of me. Why do you even care?"

"You know, you still owe me for helpin' your little Institute friend, on top of savin' your ass," he replied… though I didn't miss how he avoided my question. "Least you could do is tell me why I've got mercs bustin' down doors in my town."

"Add it to my tab," I muttered.

I tried to push past him to the hallway. He grabbed my shoulder to stop me… there was nothing violent about it at all, but it immediately flipped a trigger in my brain. I yelped like I'd been hit, blindly threw an elbow towards his midsection (and actually connected with his ribs, judging by the feel of it), and then spun back towards the center of the room with my fists raised. It happened so quickly that I wasn't even aware that I had moved at all until I was standing a couple yards back, muscles vibrating and way too close to hyperventilating.

Hancock hadn't moved. He watched me like one might watch a spooked animal, hands splayed in a peaceful gesture. I would've felt stupid if a fresh dose of adrenaline wasn't fast-tracking its way through my veins. I hadn't realized how much being attacked had unnerved me.

"Doll, if I wanted to hurt ya, I woulda let those Gunners cart you off," Hancock said, speaking in a somewhat softer tone that before. "But I need some answers. And from how it looks, you could use the help."

"You'd help me?" I asked in disbelief.

He shrugged. "Well, guess we won't know until you spill the beans, will we?"

"You can be an infuriating human being, do you know that?" He smirked, and I sighed. "Fine. Look, I can't tell you everything… _not_ because I'm trying to be a mysterious asshole. I just don't understand all of it myself. But if I tell you what I can, will you get off my back?"

He blinked- I think he had expected me to keep arguing. But once it became clear that I wasn't bullshitting him, he settled himself back on the couch and gestured for me to proceed.

"What else have I got to lose at this point, right?" I muttered, more to myself than to him. I hadn't planned on doing any of this. But at this point, I needed allies. Either I told Hancock as much I could in the hope that he'd be chill, or I'd be 100% on my own out in the Commonwealth… which was a death sentence.

Talk about being caught between a rock and a hard place.

I started pacing, trying to get my thoughts straight. "Okay, so… bear with me a bit, because I'm not even sure if what I have to say makes any sense." A dry little chuckle escaped me unexpectedly. "God, my life has gotten so fucked up. Where do I even start?"

"You really from California?" he asked- or prompted, more like.

I nodded. "Pretty much everything I've told you about myself is true. My name, where I'm from, all of that. Until this afternoon I wasn't aware that I was running from anyone, so I haven't had a reason to keep my identity a secret. I can't name a single person- from here or back in LA- that would want to pay someone to track me down." I stopped pacing and rubbed my neck. "Actually, I don't think anyone that I knew back in LA exists anymore."

Hancock tilted his head. "Why?"

I fidgeted, wringing my hands. _Fuck, this is gonna get tricky._ "I'm sure Wiseman probably mentioned something about me having amnesia."

He inclined his head. "He brought it up before he left. Memory loss ain't that unusual, though… been blacked out for days at a time myself. More than once."

I couldn't help but roll my eyes a little at his roguish grin. "Of course you have. But this is a little more than a couple days lost on a bender."

"How much did you lose?" Like having huge gaps in your memory was the most typical thing in the world.

I inhaled slowly to steady myself. "Last thing I remember, before showing up in the woods near the Slog? Going to bed in my apartment in Los Angeles. In the year 2017."

The end of my statement hung dramatically in the air…or so I thought. Hancock considered my truth bomb for all of about two seconds before shrugging it off.

"No shit?" He finished his cigarette and lit another one, and then offered the pack to me. "That's what all this was about? Well, guess that explains a lot."

I accepted the smoke automatically, a little stunned by his lack of reaction. "That's isn't fucking insane to you?"

He lifted his shoulders. "Mighta been if you'd come along a few years ago. But now..." He chuckled to himself. "Let's just say I've seen a lot weirder. You and Nate might have more in common than you think."

Nope, definitely wrong direction for that to take.

" _No_ , please don't tell him," I pleaded. "I don't think… I don't think my 2017 is precisely the one that he would know."

"How's that?"

We were verging into extra-sticky territory; I'd have to tread carefully to avoid saying something dangerous. I put a hand to my head, pretending to feel confused.

"I don't understand it myself. But based off of what I've seen from the pre-war world, what's been left… almost none of it seems right. Most of the buildings and places are, but the music, the technology… it's not where we were headed. I don't really have the words to be able to explain it." I started pacing again so I'd have an excuse to look at the floor instead of at him. "I guess it kind of feels like taking a wrong turn… somewhere along the line the history _I_ know and the history that must have actually happened diverged paths."

"… huh."

"Told you it was pretty far out there," I said, glancing up at him nervously. He was motionless, his gaze sort of far-away as he considered what I'd told him. "Now do you see why I didn't really want to bring this up? It makes me sound insane."

"Nah," he said finally, sort of shaking himself out of his contemplation. "I've known a lot of people who had a few screws loose. You don't fit the profile."

"So you believe me?"

He shrugged. "If you feel like your memories are real, who am I to tell you different? Half the time I can't tell if what I remember really happened or if it was just another hallucination."

I felt a huge weight drop from my shoulders at his words. I hadn't realized how much pressure I'd been putting myself under, trying to keep everything hidden. The relief was honestly a little overwhelming. I dropped to the floor, back against the wall opposite from him, and put my head in my hands.

"Shit… are you okay?" he asked. I could hear the alarm in his voice… though he was probably more worried about dealing with me crying than anything else.

"I didn't know how much I needed that," I said. My voice was shaky, but I hadn't started weeping… at least not yet. "Don't worry, I'm not crying or anything. Just… man." I breathed meditatively for a few moments before raising my head. "Look, no one knows this about me. _No one._ Not Wiseman, not anybody. I'm all alone out here, so there's not much to stop you if you decide to betray me or sell me out. So… it'd be really cool if you didn't."

"Your secret's safe with me, Sister," he promised, winking. "What I still don't get, though, is why someone's after ya. You ain't exactly the first person walkin' around the Commonwealth with a head full of memories that don't belong here."

"Your guess is as good as mine at this point," I said honestly. "Feel like I would've handled myself a little better with those Gunners if I had any superpowers or special skills or anything."

"You sure you ain't a synth? I got a friend whose story ain't all that different from yours."

I knew he was talking about Nick, and tried not to let the recognition show on my face. Though the comparison did give me a bit of an idea… pretending to be the uncertain, unknowing synth would be a plausible explanation for why I knew about a different time. I'd have to play it carefully; if I was too heavy-handed or too willing to accept that explanation, it could raise suspicion. But I could put on that role for a while, either until I found a way back home or until something else changed.

"Realistically…" I said slowly. "I guess anything's possible. After all, a few weeks ago I would've said it was impossible for me to wake up in a post-nuclear wasteland, and yet here I am, right?" I propped my arms up on my knees, making a show of thinking hard. "But I remember _everything_ from my life. My childhood, my family, going to school… there are so many details that I don't see how someone could just write them up, you know? I don't think even Tolkein could come up with something that thorough."

"Can't really say either way, but it's something to think about," Hancock said agreeably.  
"But now there's the problem of you stayin' in Goodneighbor."

I blinked up at him, a little shocked. "You're still going to kick me out?"

Hancock laughed. "If I did that, I wouldn't be much better than those jerks out in Diamond City, now would I? But those Gunners were probably right… if whoever's after you is motivated enough to put a price on your head, those mercs are just gonna keep on comin'. I ain't gonna tell you no if you really want to stay… you're part of the community now, and folks here can take care of themselves just fine for the most part. But you'd be safer on the move than stayin' in one place."

"Easier said than done."

"You could tag along with Nate and Mac. Vaultie never stays in any one place for very long, and if you want someone with a lotta connections and friends, he's the one." I must've looked hesitant, because he added, "Tell you what: I'll come along, too."

I gave him an incredulous look. "Seriously?"

He grinned. "Why not? I'll watch your back, and do what I can to help you find the asshole who's got mercenaries huntin' you down."

"Don't you have a town to run?" I asked, gesturing broadly.

He shrugged. "They survived without me before, they can do it again. I was thinking about takin' a walk again soon, anyway. Whattya say?"

 _Is this really happening?_

"I… okay, I guess." I stood to my feet, feeling uncertain but also oddly comforted. "When do we leave?"

He stood with me and jerked his head towards the door. "Let's go give Mac and Nate the news."


	12. Chapter 12

***Happy New Year Everyone! Figured I'd start the year off right with a new chapter for you all ;).***

* * *

I was going to get myself killed.

In less than 24 hours, I went from at least having the _illusion_ of safety in my setup in Goodneighbor, to actively hunting down whoever was after me in the danger-filled Commonwealth. With three of the biggest trouble magnets in God's creation.

Maybe I really had started to lose my mind.

Well, at least I'd be in good company.

"So you really know how to use that thing, or is it just for show?" MacCready asked me, once we had set out. He was indicating my baseball bat, which I had snagged from my room along with what other few belongings I owned.

I twirled the bat and fluttered my eyelashes. "Do you like it? It was a risk, you know, choosing an accessory this bold, but KLEO talked me into it. And I have to say that it just _perfectly_ matches my whole wasteland aesthetic!"

"Wasteland what?"

"Of course I know how to use it, you walnut." I shook my head and propped it against my shoulder as we walked. "It's not exactly rocket science."

MacCready shrugged. "Just didn't seem to serve you that well before, is all."

Nate tried to come to my rescue. "Mac, that's not-"

"You know, you're right," I said, grinning toothily at the younger man. "I should make sure I know how to defend myself before leaving the wholesome safety of Goodneighbor's streets." Hancock snorted at that.

MacCready tried to backtrack. "That's not what I-"

I tilted my head, smile stretching wider. "Wanna volunteer to help me test my aim?"

"Alright you two, that's enough," Nate stepped in finally, but he was fighting back a grin himself. "I don't have enough stimpaks to cover injuries caused by bickering."

"He started it," I objected, pretending to sulk. MacCready just rolled his eyes.

"So how'd you end up in Goodneighbor, Cass?" Nate inquired, to change the subject.

I glanced at him from the side as we walked. I still got a bit of an unpleasant jolt in my stomach each time I looked at him and saw my own character made flesh, but it was subsiding. It was actually kind of a struggle to feel ill at ease around him… which I guess I should have anticipated, since Charisma was one of the traits I made him score high on. He had one of those sincere vibes that made you want to relax.

"Made a bad deal with the wrong magical elf king," I deadpanned. "I knew that whole 'wish' business was shady."

"I'm tellin' Wiseman you called him a 'magical elf king' the next time I see him," Hancock threatened jokingly.

I laughed. "It wouldn't be the worst thing I've called that old man."

"You know Wiseman?" Nate asked, perking up a bit more in surprise.

I nodded. "Not for very long, but he's a good friend. I would've been dead weeks ago if it weren't for him and the others at the Slog."

A look of genuinely happy satisfaction lit up Nate's face. "That's wonderful to hear. The Slog was one of the first settlements to come under the minutemen's banner after I started helping Preston rebuild them."

 _Don't I know it._ "Then rest assured they are definitely making the most of those values. I owe them my life and then some."

It was then that I noticed that we were headed around the backside of Diamond City's green wall, rather than heading around to the main gate.

I cocked my head. "Hey, I know I'm not the resident expert on geography here, but I could've sworn the entrance to this place was in the other direction."

Nate shared a conspiratorial glance with Hancock. "That's because we're not going in that way."

"They ain't exactly gonna let someone like me walk through the front door," Hancock added.

Okay, well, duh. That should've been obvious.

I followed them around to a heavy, rusty metal door that was nearly invisible against the worn patina of the wall. I wouldn't have ever noticed that it was there if Nate hadn't gone straight for it. It was blocked by a few piles of rubble and the skeletal legs of a wooden scaffold, upon which a machine gun turret hummed. We evidently didn't fit the bill for the turret's targeting system though, as it continued to oscillate serenely back and forth as we slipped underneath it.

Nate pulled some lockpicking materials out of his pack (he actually used bobby pins, I swear to god) and jimmied the lock within seconds.

"That doesn't seem super secure," I observed, as he beckoned for us to follow him inside. "Do the powers that be know this entrance is here? Or are they just so arrogant that they assume no one else could know?"

"The latter," Hancock replied matter-of-factly, as we stepped into a shadowy hallway. "My brother tends to be of the 'out of sight, out of mind' sort. Thinks his turrets and guards and giant green wall are enough to keep undesirables like me out."

"Well, you remember that hole in the wall that Piper found," MacCready chimed in. "I mean, come on! Covered up with a _bookcase_? It's like he's asking for people to break in."

"Used to use this door to sneak out to Goodneighbor when I was younger, in my pre-ghoul days," Hancock continued. "Still use it to smuggle in chems from time to time. Showed it to Nate for when he needs to get into the city without attractin' too much attention."

"The market isn't far up ahead," Nate said, as late afternoon light began to filter in dimly. I could see the hallway curving down both ways… now that we were deeper inside, I caught my bearings a little more. One side of the path led off to the back side of Home Plate, I knew, and the other went around the back of the Dug-Out Inn.

"It's probably best if the two of you stay out of sight back here," he continued, speaking to Hancock and me. "No offense, but neither of you will blend in very well… and Hancock's liable to start a panic if someone sees that he's a ghoul."

"Don't worry, vaultie, I ain't out to start a riot in my brother's town." Hancock grinned. "Not today, anyway."

Nate arched an eyebrow at him and shook his head. "We'll go grab Nick and be back as soon as we can."

He and MacCready left, leaving just Hancock and me alone. In the dark.

 _Well, this is a little awkward._

"So glad I finally got to see the 'Great, Green Jewel' that everyone's been talking about," I mused sarcastically, more to fill the sudden silence than anything else.

Hancock chuckled. "It ain't all it's cracked up to be. Promise."

My eyes were beginning to adjust. I could just make out Hancock standing across from me, with one shoulder propped against the wall. I sat down on the concrete; the ground was cold, but I was grateful for the chance to give my feet a rest.

"You grew up here, right?" I asked.

He nodded. "Picked up on that, did ya? Yeah, lived here until my brother started his campaign against the ghouls. Wasn't one myself at the time, but I couldn't stay in a place where the majority was fine with sentencing an entire group of people to their deaths."

I could hear the bitterness in his voice, and empathized strongly.

"I can't imagine having to watch that happen. I would've left too."

He made a displeased sound. "Shoulda done a lot more than that."

I cocked my head. "But you did." He gave me a quizzical look, and I shrugged. "I mean, how else do you look at Goodneighbor? Or helping Nate take down the Institute? Neither of those things happened overnight, but from what I can tell you affected a lot more change than most people achieve." I stared out towards the hallway thoughtfully. "And people are gonna suck no matter where you go or how much time passes, but you just keep pointing out what shitheads they're being until it sinks in, you know?"

I think Hancock was going to reply, but something caught my attention when I finished speaking. I held a hand up to silence him and tilted my head towards the left side of the hallway, listening hard.

"Do you hear that?" I asked, voice hushed. I could definitely hear two male voices headed our way, but they didn't sound like Nate, MacCready, or Nick. Plus, it had only been a couple of minutes; no way they tracked down Nick that fast. I heard something about the mayor and having to work extra shifts, and jumped to my feet.

"Shit, those are guards headed this way."

"That so?" Hancock asked. I saw him reach for the knife tucked at his waist and slapped his hand.

"Are you serious right now? We are not about to fight them!"

He gave me an incredulous look. "Then what do you suggest? Not a whole lotta places to hide here, in case you hadn't noticed."

The guards were just around the bend now. I tried to think quickly… we could use the dim lighting to our advantage. I didn't want to go back the way we came because I couldn't see well enough to run if I needed to, and if they spotted us that'd be the end of this secret entrance. They were getting closer… I glanced back over at Hancock and an idea came into my head.

A bad one, a _really_ bad one, but it would have to do.

"Come here!" I said in a low voice, beckoning him over to me.

"What're you-"

"Just get over here!"

I grabbed him by the lapels, yanking him against me. I wrapped my arms around his neck, and seconds before the guards rounded the corner I pulled his lips down to meet mine.

"Oh, for fuck's sake," I heard one of the guards complain. "I'm out. This is all you, buddy."

"Asshole."

Hancock was, thankfully, very quick on the uptake. He backed me against the wall at an angle that kept his back entirely to the guard, but would still allow me to look over to respond. He knotted one hand in the hair at the base of my neck (my hat fell to the ground somewhere during this process), and pressed the other into the small of my back, out of sight where the guard wouldn't be able to see any of his scarring.

He was also playing his role _really_ well. Like, I-was-having-trouble-remembering-my-own-plan well.

There were footsteps, and then the guard who had stayed nudged my leg with his boot. "Hey, this area's off-limits."

I started like I had just noticed he was there. I looked over at the guard with a sheepish grin, tucking Hancock's face against my neck as I did so. I kept my arms around him to hide any glimpse of his skin that might be peeking out over his collar or under his hat.

"Oops!" I giggled, dropping into my best bubblegum-sweet, girly voice. "I'm _so_ sorry… we were taking a walk and found this hallway, and well…" Hancock tugged at me, and I felt his teeth lightly nip at my throat. "Got sort of caught up in the moment!"

"You know I could never keep my hands off you," Hancock said into my ear, loud enough for the guard to hear. I couldn't help but shiver at the tone in his raspy voice. _Goddamn it, keep it together, Cass._

I giggled a second time. "Oh babe, that tickles!" I mock-complained when he went back to nuzzling my throat. I felt the touch of his teeth again, followed by a quick flick of his tongue, and stealthily drove my heel into his foot. _Knock it off, Casanova._

The guard was unimpressed. "I said this area's off limits."

"I know, I know. But do you think you could give us like, five… ten minutes?" I asked. "I promise we'll be out of your hair in no time. _He never takes very long,_ " I added in a mock-whisper. I could feel Hancock's chest vibrate with a low growl and fought the desire to laugh.

I couldn't see his face, but I could practically hear the guard's eyes rolling. "Jesus Christ. Fine. But you two better be outta here before I come back around, or I'm throwin' you both in a cell for the night for trespassing. Got it?"

"Thanks, officer," I said, with a smile and a big wink.

Hancock kissed me again, a little more aggressively this time… probably punishing me for the comment about his endurance. I twined one of my legs around his and responded with a porn-worthy, high-pitched sigh that was finally ostentatious enough to make the guard throw up his hands and walk away.

I waited until I could no longer hear the guard's footsteps, and broke away with a breath of relief. My heart was pounding… and not because we'd almost been caught by a rent-a-cop. I'd outwitted more dipshits like him in my life than I could count.

I had enjoyed that kiss. A lot. A lot more than I should have. _This is bad._

"Fuck. That was really close." I cleared my throat awkwardly. "Uh, sorry for that, by the way."

"'Never takes very long'?" Hancock asked wryly.

"Well it worked, didn't it?"

He hummed a reluctant agreement. "Pretty fast thinking." I caught the glint of his teeth as he grinned. "So do all of your plans end up like that?"

"The good ones," I replied, earning a chuckle. "And, well, it's not like we had time to hide. PDA makes most people uncomfortable, so…"

"Hey, no complaints here. Better than what I had in mind by a long shot."

"Better than violence and bloodshed. Good to know." I stood there for a moment, shifting my weight from one foot to the next before asking, "... Hancock?"

"Yeah?"

"You know you don't still need to be holding me, right?"

Instead of releasing me, I felt his arms wind a little tighter. "What if he decides to come back?"

I rolled my eyes. "I think that's a chance I'm willing to take." Then I shoved his shoulder. "If you tell ANYONE I had to talk like that- or make that godawful fake noise- I will castrate you in your sleep. Understand?"

"Mmm, I love it when you talk dirty."

"Oh my god just _shut up_."

He laughed but finally released me. And not a moment too soon… I could hear another set of footsteps echoing on the concrete, and this set sounded familiar. I swiped my hat up from the floor and hurriedly straightened myself as Nate and MacCready came around the corner.

"Nicky not at home?" Hancock asked.

Nate shook his head. "Ellie said he was helping a trader track down a missing shipment out near the Castle. With any luck he's still in the area, so I'm going to radio them and have them wait for us to meet him there if I can."

"I guess Piper went out with him," MacCready added. "So I apologize in advance, Cass."

I gave him a confused look. "Why?"

"The Commonwealth's one and only reporter is going to have a heyday with you," Hancock explained. "At least it'll take her attention off of how much she hates me."

"Well then, glad to be of service," I responded, my tone heavy on the sarcasm.

"We can stay in Home Plate for the night," Nate said. He began to walk towards the back entrance to his Diamond City abode. "It'll be dark soon, and I'd rather move through Boston in the daylight if we can help it. In the meantime I'll get on the radio and see if anyone can get ahold of Nick, let him know we're coming."

* * *

 **(Hancock)**

They stayed in Home Plate that night… Nate's sweet little setup next to the Diamond City market. The place had been kind of a wreck at first, but it was big – especially for a home in the "Great Green Jewel"- and Nate had done a pretty good job cleaning it up. It set all of Hancock's nerves on edge, having to spend the night in a place he actively tried to forget existed, but it was safe and secure enough that they could all get some rest before starting their trek in earnest the next day.

Not that he was doing much resting. Sure, he'd probably catch an hour or two of sleep towards the end of the night, but ghouls didn't need as much sleep as smoothskinned humans in order to keep going. One of the perks of turning yourself into a wasteland zombie.

Normally he'd be the one volunteering to keep watch, but there was little need for that within Diamond City's walls. Both entrances to Nate's home were locked securely, and the most dangerous thing outside was his brother's little police force. "Mall cops," Cass had called them. He wasn't sure what those were, but had to agree with the scorn in her tone.

He helped himself to a couple puffs of Jet, exhaling slowly as the day's events filtered through his mind. Their arrival at Diamond City, in particular. There wasn't much that caught him off guard nowadays, but he'd been _almost_ shocked speechless when Cass had kissed him. Even as comfortable with ghouls as she was, he wouldn't have expected her to be… well, _that_ comfortable. And, outside of obvious reasons, it had been a good idea; that guard couldn't have gotten away fast enough, and hadn't had any idea he was a ghoul. Pretty quick thinking, on her part.

He let his gaze drop to her as he mulled it over. Cass was sprawled on Nate's couch, just a couple feet away from where he was sitting. Nate, being the gentleman he always was, had offered her the bed first, but she declined. She was odd like that… didn't like to accept help unless she absolutely needed it. Hell, it took nearly getting dragged off by mercs to get her to open up as much as she did. The girl had the stubbornness of an ill-tempered Brahmin.

One of her tattooed arms was draped over her eyes, blocking out the light that illuminated Nate's workbench. The other dangled off the couch so that her fingers just brushed the handle to her bat. She never had it out of reach now… a hard-earned lesson. Her chest rose and fell with steady, deep breaths. So either she was fast asleep, or really good at pretending to be.

Hancock felt a bit like a creep, watching her sleep like that, but it wasn't like there was much else to do. And even if there was, he wasn't certain he could help himself. Not for the first time, he wondered what he had gotten himself into by agreeing to look out for her. Truth be told, he hadn't been overly enthused about the idea at first. Having her in town wasn't what bothered him; she'd caught his interest when he saw her roughing Holt up in the bar, and he'd been pleased to hear she was sticking around. Plucky gals like that were always welcome in Goodneighbor.

No, it was Wiseman's request to keep her out of trouble that was the issue. He normally had enough to worry about keeping the town running without having to babysit someone. But Wiseman seemed to have a special soft spot for the girl… and if that's what he was gonna cash in his favor for, it wasn't like Hancock could say no.

It wasn't exactly a hardship to keep an eye on a figure like that, either.

Without really thinking about it, his eyes drifted up to her mouth. Distracted as she was, that had been a good kiss. Her lips were full, and they'd been just as soft as they looked. He had imagined what it'd be like to kiss her- well, that, among other things- many times since she walked into Goodneighbor. And now that he'd had a taste, he found himself wanting to repeat the experience.

Almost like she could feel his gaze, Cass sighed in her sleep and turned on her side, curling into the couch. She was most likely a synth, even if she didn't believe it… though he admittedly had never seen a synth who looked or acted quite like she did. He didn't envy being in that situation. He had seen how much living with another person's memories and personality had affected Nick, had watched his friend battle with that duality of existence for years now. Shit like that was what made him want to hunt down every one of the Institute bastards, at least the ones who'd been involved in the synths' creation.

He sighed to himself, and turned his gaze up to the ceiling. Well, maybe at least he could help put down the fuck that was hunting Cass, make that part of her life a little easier. Wipe out a few of his own past sins along the way.


	13. Chapter 13

"Are we there yet?"

I was whining. Half just to be irritating, and half because I was genuinely fed up with walking. My feet ached, my back hurt from lugging my pack around, and at that moment I was pretty certain I'd sell my first-born child for a hot shower. I had never longed more ardently for public transportation.

Plus, grumbling was a good distraction. It kept me from thinking about what a monumental dumbass I was. I hadn't been able to stop thinking about my little scene with Hancock since last night, and it was putting me in a less-than-sunny mood.

MacCready rolled his eyes at me. "Is everything out of your mouth sarcasm or a complaint?"

"Don't be mad because I do it better than you," I retorted, then hopped to the side when he went to swat at my shoulder. "Hey! Respect your elders, young man!"

MacCready had kind of irritated me as a character, to be honest, but I found that I was liking him much more in-person. It was easy to forget when he was a computer-animated figure, but he was just a kid. I think he was something like 22 when the events of the main game took place, which meant he wasn't much older than 23 or 24 now. Still at least three years my junior. Like the others, he had survived through shit I couldn't even imagine, but it didn't mean I wasn't going to mess with him. It was sort of like teasing the little brother I never had.

"Maybe if your feet ran as fast as your mouth we'd get there a little quicker."

I whistled. "Touché."

"Are you two ever going to be quiet, or do we have to listen to you flirt the entire way?" Nate asked.

MacCready went a little pink. "That's not… we are not _flirting_."

"Speak for yourself," I said, fluttering my eyelashes.

Then, without meaning to, I glanced over at Hancock. He had been trailing a few steps behind the three of us for most of the day. He claimed it was to keep from accidentally blowing smoke in our faces during his frequent cigarette and chem breaks, but I figured the main reason was because it would be harder for someone to sneak up on him.

Which was just as well, because I was having trouble meeting his gaze after the previous afternoon. We had to have been walking for at least eight or nine hours, and I had maybe looked him in the face for about five total minutes during that time. The more I struggled with it, the more irritated I got. I've kissed plenty of people in my life- sometimes out of desire, sometimes out of boredom, and once or twice on a dare- and never had any problem separating the physical and emotional aspects of the act. The fact that I was struggling _now_ was maddening.

Don't get me wrong; my problem wasn't being shy or embarrassed. The issue was that I wanted to do it again. Hancock had been surprised and unprepared, and he was _still_ a damn good kisser. Like, enough-to-turn-me-stupid kind of good. I had thought that his debauched reputation was mostly because he was a relentless flirt, but clearly there were other elements at play. And it was probably a little bigoted of me for having thought this, but I just hadn't expected that from… well, from a ghoul.

Being proved wrong had rarely been so enjoyable.

And what made this all so troublesome was that I had approximately zero time for fooling around. I needed to stay focused on finding a way home. It was already going to suck enough that I would be leaving new friendships behind when I went… I didn't need to add a fucking romance into the mix along with it, casual or otherwise. Not to mention the fact that chasing after a guy who's comfortable stabbing people to say hello and has likely done more drugs on his own than all the individuals at the EDC combined wasn't the most advisable of life choices.

"Need something, or just admirin' the scenery?" he asked me archly, catching my gaze.

 _Fuck._

"Just making sure you haven't up and vanished…" I started to reply, but trailed off when Nate slowed to a stop. There was a new tension in his shoulders that gave me pause.

"What is it?" I asked.

"Noticed that too, huh?" MacCready asked Nate in a low voice.

I was starting to get a chill down my spine that I didn't like. "Notice what?"

"Wind changed," Nate explained tersely. "And it smells like carrion."

How were they able to pick up on that so quickly? I didn't even notice until Nate pointed it out… and even then, the scent of rotting meat was nothing more than a suggestion on the breeze. It was coppery and sickly sweet at the same time. And though I'd never smelt carnage before in my life, it still made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

"Was startin' to wonder why it was so quiet," Hancock remarked, casually pulling his shotgun to his front. "Been nothing but the two of you talking for the last fifteen, twenty minutes."

 _Well, shit. I hadn't noticed that either._

I felt like an idiot. I'd been blithely strolling along while these guys had been aware of potential danger for almost a half hour. But if they'd known about it for that long…

"So why are we stopping now?" I asked.

Just then, a long, low howl carried through the air around us. It wouldn't have been out of place in a horror movie.

"That's why," Nate said, his motions and tone suddenly very military. "That's a mutant hound. There must be a hunting party nearby." He paused as a replying howl echoed from our other side. "And they've decided that we're on the menu."

"Supermutants?" I repeated weakly. _How did we go from zero to shitstorm so fast?_

Nate looked back at me. "You ever fight one of them before?"

I shook my head. Nate scanned the buildings around us, and pointed to a mostly-intact two-story that was down the road a few yards.

"Supermutants are easily distracted. If you stay low and out of sight they won't even know you're here." Gorilla-esque voices could be heard on approach now, and Nate frowned. "But if they do come after you…"

"I'll go with her," Hancock volunteered, loading up a couple of shots into his double barrel. "That bat of hers ain't gonna do much if one of those mutants gets past you."

"I can take care of myself," I objected huffily.

Hancock gave me a quick grin. "What's the matter, Cass? Afraid of what'll happen if we're left alone together again?"

Well, I fucking walked right into that one.

"The prospect of getting gutted is a little more pressing at the moment." I shoulder-checked him as I passed, and he snickered.

There was little time to joke around, though. I could feel the ground vibrating with heavy footsteps approaching. Nate and MacCready took off in the opposite direction, firing a couple of shots into the air to draw the supermutants' attention.

I heard deep-voiced battle cries behind us. I knew it was a mistake, but I instinctively slowed and looked back. My eyes widened as I glimpsed a figure closely resembling the Incredible Hulk charging towards Nate with a sledgehammer swinging over his shoulder. _Holy shit_. _There's something you don't see every day._

 _Actually, these guys probably do._

"Look out!"

I lost my footing as Hancock roughly shoved me forward. I tumbled, gracelessly rolling across the scarred asphalt before finding my feet again. I turned back to see what had happened and felt my insides turn to lead.

"Jesus! Hancock!"

He'd been tackled by a mutant hound. The thing must have weighed at least 250 pounds, easy; it looked like a mastiff on steroids. It had him pinned to the asphalt while he blocked its horrifyingly impressive jaws with his shotgun. That wasn't going to last long, though. It wasn't hard to imagine that beast ripping his arms out of his sockets, or maybe even biting through the barrel of the gun. The killer doggo had teeth like a saber-toothed tiger.

Now, as I've said before, I'm not really a fighter. The smart thing would've been to run, maybe call out to Nate and MacCready for help. But somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew there wasn't enough time for that; Hancock was going to be dog food in a matter of seconds.

So before I had even fully registered what I was seeing, my legs were carrying me forward. I wasn't going to be strong enough to beat Cujo to death, I knew that much, but I thought I could at least get it off of my friend before it tore him to pieces.

… And then I could hopefully run away before getting ripped apart myself.

I gathered all of my strength and swung my bat at the foreleg nearest to me. The bat made contact with a sickening sort of crunching/ squishing sound; I could feel the impact jolt my entire frame. The nails sunk into the muscle, so deeply that I couldn't quite pull my bat loose. I had hit the joint, and I quickly dodged backwards as the hound's leg buckled and it collapsed to the side with a snarl of pain.

Hancock's shotgun laid on the ground a couple of feet in front of the hound. Without letting myself stop to think, I lunged for it, yelping when the mutant mutt's head swung my way. I scrabbled backwards as it snapped, missing me by inches. It struggled to get to its feet (my bat was still lodged in its joint… I had really wedged it in there). I aimed the barrel of the shotgun at its face as it labored to get upright, and squeezed the trigger. Twice.

I was at point-blank range, so both shots landed. The recoil knocked me back on my ass, though. Blood splattered my face and hands, and the hound's face became less of a face and more of a gory… errr… hole.

I felt frozen in shock. Bullet holes were one thing; turning another creature's face into bloody pulp was another entirely. There's really no amount of violence-based media that can prepare you for that. Between the awful visual, the smell, and the sensation of irradiated blood splashing onto me, I think my brain short-circuited for a few seconds.

Then Hancock's face appeared in front of mine, and everything lurched into motion again.

"Not bad!" he crowed, exhilarated where I was traumatized. "I thought for sure-"

Guttural growling started up to our left, like the rip of a chainsaw. Hancock's eyes flickered over my shoulder, and then suddenly he was hauling me up, all but dragging me across the street.

" _Run_!"

Somehow I got my brain to make my legs work again. I sprinted with him across the street into the two-story house. I didn't look over to see the other hound, but I could feel its presence as it surged down the street towards us. I caught a glimpse of Nate battling one of the humanoid supermutants a couple hundred yards away; the sight of him dodging and diving around an actual ten-foot-tall, verdant wall of muscle and rage was nearly enough to make me stumble. I couldn't see MacCready, but I was pretty certain I saw another green body on the ground. So hopefully, they were winning.

Somehow we made it inside the house before the hound caught us. I slammed the door shut; I knew it wouldn't last long against a hulked-out pit bull, but the gamer in me knew it was best to create as many obstacles as possible.

We made for the back door. Hancock was hastily reloading his shotgun as we moved, and I had pulled out my pistol since I had left my bat in the canine corpse outside. Not that I thought it would do much good, but it felt better than nothing.

We made it to the kitchen when there was a loud _crack_ and the back door nearly split it two.

"THOUGHT YOU COULD HIDE?!" came a thunderous and dim-witted roar from the other side.

"Goddammit!" Hancock swore. He clacked the barrel of his gun back into place and took aim for the door. "Cass, get upstairs!"

"I'm not-"

" _Move your ass!_ "

The supermutant hit the door again, and this time it tore away from its frame like it had been holding on with scotch tape instead of metal hinges. I decided that now was not the time to argue, and doubled back into the front room.

 _Just_ in time to see the second mutant hound burst through the front door like a motherfucking cannon ball. I darted up the stairs while it was still shaking splinters from its eyes. That monster was right on my heels. The only reason it didn't outrun me straightaway was that its bulk prevented it from moving as easily as I could up the narrow staircase and through the tight hallway.

I ran into the main bedroom and slammed the door shut (because again, _obstacles_ ). I'd been hoping that this was the bedroom that looked out to the front of the house, and could've cried when I saw I'd gotten it right. This room had a window that overlooked the awning above the front porch. The glass was already broken away from the window frame, so I started to pull myself through as the hound reduced the bedroom door to toothpicks.

I shrieked as I felt something tear at my leg when I slipped down onto the cracked shingles. Looking back, I could see a long tear in the fabric of my jeans, already spilling over with blood. There wasn't any glass left in the frame, so that had to have been a tooth or claw that did it.

The hound's face appeared in the window, straining as it snapped and snarled and tried to reach me through the too-small opening. I crawled towards the edge, but my plan of jumping to the ground and running for help was now shot. I didn't feel pain at that moment, not really, but it was definitely obvious that my leg didn't want to support my weight. I wouldn't be able to land a ten-foot drop without breaking something.

From inside the house, I could hear shouting and the now-familiar _boom_ of Hancock's shotgun. It was difficult to make out over the slavering canine in front of me, but I was pretty certain I could hear the breaking of what could either be old furniture or walls as well. _Please don't let that be bodies. Or at least his body. Fuck the supermutant._

I felt a fleeting spike of fear for Hancock's safety… and I say "fleeting" because the mutant hound was actually starting to break through the window, and I was trapped less than two yards away from it with a disabled leg. _Lord, please don't let me die as a chew toy._ I remembered my pistol; my first couple of shots hit the wall (even at point-blank range… we'll blame that on the adrenaline shakes), but the next three or so hit the mutt. They didn't seem to do much good, though. The hound jerked back as the rounds sank into his face and neck, but he only shook himself and resumed his destruction with renewed vigor.

 _Great, I just pissed it off more._

I was starting to consider risking a drop to the ground; I'd have a few seconds to get away at least, until the hound either leapt down from the roof or ran back through the house to eat me. Maybe I could drag myself under the crawl-space beneath the house or something.

A loud blast erupted behind me in the street. Everything shook (the awning suddenly seemed a lot less stable), and both the mutant hound and I swung out heads around to see what had happened. There was a charred, blackened dent in the asphalt where Nate and that supermutant had been fighting before. One of the supermutants' bodies lay in the center, missing quite a few extremities. Nate popped up his head up from behind a rusted-out car frame; thankfully he seemed none the worse for wear. I caught a brief glimpse of MacCready too, posted up further down with his rifle trained in our direction.

Not two seconds later I saw Hancock running off the porch and into the street, yelling taunts all the while.

"Slow _and_ stupid, huh, shit-for-brains?"

His jibe was answered by a furious roar. I felt the thuds from the supermutant's approach, and then he was launching himself towards the street.

The only problem was that he launched himself straight through the support beam that I was sitting above.

The old wood crumbled like it had never been there. I'm pretty sure I shrieked; suddenly I was dropping, and I happened to land square on a set of colossal green shoulders. I guess not even a supermutant can take 150-odd pounds of dead weight crashing on to top of him. He toppled forward, his momentum causing him to slide painfully across a couple yards of road. I had sort of rolled off his back as he tumbled; I was a little dazed, but wasn't seriously injured.

Hancock took the opportunity to shotgun the supermutant in the back of the head before he could get back up. We still had the other mutant hound to deal with, though. It had finally burst through the window, and was precariously balancing on the other side of the awning… which would give at any moment.

I was fucked. I was directly beneath the thing, and all I could do was stare up at it as it gathered itself to pounce down on top of me.

It crouched, claws digging into the decaying shingles… and then jerked abruptly and oddly to the side. I heard a faint _fwip_ through the air, and it jerked again; this time I realized that MacCready must've sniped it. There was a third shot, and then the hound went down for good. It went limp and its body crumpled over the edge of the awning, landing on the ground with a heavy _fwoomp_.

For a moment or two, there was nothing but silence as we all waited to make sure everything was really dead. When none of the mutants got up again, the guys erupted into laughter and banter, celebrating the win. You'd think they just won a pick-up game instead of a battle for our lives.

 _I'm traveling with a trio of psychos. God help me._


	14. Chapter 14

***Thank you all for your incredible patience, as always! This last month I was slammed with quite a few more freelancing projects than normal... which was great for my bank account, but not so great for my "fun" writing.**

 **I've also been taking more time to try and plan this fic out because, as I've mentioned before, I never really expected it to go this far or become this popular. That being said, I'm very interested in your comments/ feedback! This fic has changed and evolved more during the creation process than any other story I've written, I think.**

 **Thank you all again for being so awesomely patient, and stay tuned! I've working on adding in some one-on-one scenes between Cass and Hancock in the upcoming chapters ;). You guys rock and thank you so much for reading!***

* * *

Nothing was right. The bed felt wrong, the smells were wrong. Even with closed eyelids, I could tell that the lighting was wrong.

Waking myself up was like trying to dig out of waist-deep quicksand. My eyes could've been sewn shut for all the good they were doing me, and moving my limbs felt like it might take an act of God to accomplish. Everything felt slow, heavy. I hadn't ever experienced sleep paralysis before, but I thought that this must be what it feels like.

Somehow, I managed to crack my eyes open. Florescent lights momentarily blinded me… but there weren't any of those at Jamaica Plain. As the fuzziness started to clear, I could see that I was in a white room, dark except for the light shining down on my head and the glow of a computer screen off to the side. I tried to tilt my head to get a better look, but couldn't. At first I thought it might be the curious heaviness that had infested my limbs; it was only when I attempted to shake my head from side to side that I could feel the strap pressed against my forehead.

I shuffled my hands. There were straps around my wrists, too. And my feet.

A doctor emerged from somewhere to my left. I could see his coat and hands, but his face was obscured by the shadows cast from the lamp. Something glinted in the corner of my eye; I turned as much as I could and glimpsed a long, sharp metal object. It looked like an ice pick, or an oversized hypodermic needle.

Fear began to tumble through me. I didn't know what that tool was used for, but the sight of it filled me with dread. It was bad. This was bad, I knew it was. I wanted to get out of here. I took in a breath to ask what was happening, or call for help, or demand to be set free, but all that came out was an unintelligible mumble.

"You're not supposed to be awake yet," the doctor said. He patted my arm. "Poor thing. Little matter… You'll be passed out again soon enough anyway."

I whimpered like an infant. It was all I could manage.

"Shhhhh." I felt him brush a finger against my cheek, and then he braced his hand against the side of my face. "Just sleep."

I couldn't tell if I was able to scream or not when I felt that instrument slide straight into my temple.

* * *

… Predictably, I didn't get much sleep for the rest of that night. My dreams were starting to evolve from vague, anxiety-born imaginings to full-blown, vivid nightmares. And that last one was a bitch… every time I started to fall back asleep, I dropped into it. A couple minutes later and I'd be jerking awake like I was auditioning for _The_ _Exorcist_.

It was this whole stupid synth thing. I _knew_ that I was a human, that I was just pretending to maybe-be-a-synth, but after spending weeks in an alternate reality it was hard as hell not to start questioning myself. Damn _what-if's_ were inching through my brain like roots. Maybe it would've been different if I'd been tossed into like, Skyrim or Mass Effect or Dragon Age, someplace obviously fantastic. This particular universe had just enough in common with the real one for my stupid doubts to be plausible.

"Hey, you doin' alright, doll?" Hancock asked me as we were setting out. "Lookin' a little pale there."

"You mean more so than usual?" It took considerable effort to summon my usual level of dismissive snark. "Must be because I caught a glimpse of Mac getting dressed this morning. I'll never be the same."

"If by 'never be the same,' you mean you realize you'll never find anything better, then I agree," MacCready retorted jauntily. "But I'm guessing it's because someone didn't get very much sleep last night."

I narrowed my eyes. "Why do you say that?"

He nudged my shoulder. "Don't try to deny it, Cass. Sound carries in those old houses. I could hear you gasping through the walls all night."

He dodged my punch only to run right into Nate as he threw a fist into his arm.

"Knock it off, Mac," Nate chided him.

"Mad that I can get myself off all night without your help?" I shot back instantly. I never was one to let someone fight my own (verbal) battles.

MacCready froze and looked back at me with wide eyes. "Wait… is that really what happened?"

Hancock hummed in approval, giving me a long once-over. "Man, did I miss that? That's gonna be a fun image to think about later."

"Don't act like you haven't already," I countered, earning a cheeky grin. "Pervert."

"Guilty as charged."

"Isn't it a little early in the day for this conversation?" Nate asked from a couple feet ahead.

I stuck out my tongue at his back. "Hey, I'm not the one who started it. And you're the one who woke me up at this ungodly hour. You should be happy I'm not breathing flames-"

I got cut off when MacCready made a displeased sort of growly noise in his throat.

"Did you really just growl at me to shut me up?" I asked, but he wasn't looking at me; his eyes were locked needle-sharp on something up ahead.

"No. But we may have company," he muttered, clearly unhappy.

That brought us all to a stop. _Oh god, not this again._

"What do your elf eyes see?" I murmured, trying to follow his gaze. I couldn't immediately see anything but dead trees and old buildings off down the road.

"Elf eyes?"

"… never mind."

"Brotherhood soldiers," Nate clarified, his brow furrowed. He pointed off to a spot a couple minutes' walk away; it was then that I caught the glint of light reflecting off metal. Three figures in power armor, far enough ahead that they were occasionally eclipsed by the trees or crumbling ruins. One looked like they might be hefting a minigun or something similar. MacCready's unenthused- but not frightened- tone suddenly made sense.

Hancock checked the barrels on his shotgun. "Super mutants yesterday, BoS assholes today. Must be my lucky week."

Nate's expression shifted from wary to stern. "We're not going to fight them, Hancock. Our peace with the Brotherhood is shaky enough as it is."

Hancock grimaced. "They ain't got a peace with people like us."

He bumped my shoulder as he spoke, and I remembered that oh yeah, I was supposed to be a synth. A jolt of adrenaline ran through me as a I realized what that meant. If the Brotherhood got wind of me at all, they'd want to kill me on the spot. And they'd have the firepower and strength to do it.

Suddenly, those shiny metal racists were a _lot_ more intimidating.

"Hey, you know what's also a great option?" I piped up, my voice going high with nerves. "Going somewhere else. Preferably before they see us."

MacCready sighed. "Too late. They're headed this way."

Yep. They had indeed spotted us, and the one in front was flagging us down. I contemplated lagging back and finding a place to hide; I didn't want to risk that they hadn't been given the same description the Gunners had. But it would be pretty obvious if they flagged down four people and only met up with three, so I settled for pulling my sleeves down over my arms and tipping my hat low to cover my face. If I kept my mouth shut, hopefully I would escape notice.

Hancock noticed my fidgeting and put an arm around my shoulders. "Hey, don't sweat it. You ain't got nothin' to worry about with me coverin' ya."

"Just you, huh?"

"Well, I'm the important one." He gave me a friendly little shake. "Us freaks gotta stick together, right?"

I gave him an incredulous look. "I'm sorry, but did you happen to see that gun they're carrying? The one that it _literally wider than my entire torso_?"

"You'll be fine, Cass," Nate assured me, as the gap between our two groups got smaller. "I doubt they're doing little more than standard reconnaissance. Just hang back and let me do all the talking."

For once, I didn't think that was going to be a problem.

It wasn't long before the soldiers were marching right up to us. The ground vibrated a little with every step they took; those power armor suits were _big_. The one with the minigun was on the side closest to me. I tried not to think about what that would do to me if he (or she) decided to squeeze the trigger.

"Morning," Nate greeted them casually. "What can we do for the three of you?"

"You're Nate, right?" the one in the lead asked. The speaker in his helmet made his voice sound all tinny. "Thought I recognized you. Haven't seen you aboard the Prydwen in a while."

"Do we know each other?" Nate was smiling, all friendly charm.

The soldier shook his head. "No, not directly, but I saw you from time to time when you were working with Paladin Danse. I'm Knight Erikson, and this is Knight Reyes and Knight Grant."

"Pleasure to meet you. What exactly are you doing out here?"

"Checking in with local settlements."

Nate's face hardened a touch. "Not commandeering supplies again, I hope."

"No, the Brotherhood's stayed true to your agreement with Elder Maxson," the soldier replied. "Any supplies we take from the farms, we pay for. The Elder mostly has us looking for information."

Every muscle in my body tensed.

"What kind of information?" MacCready asked suspiciously.

One of the other soldiers- Reyes, maybe?- looked over at him, and I could sense the hard stare even through the metal helmet.

"That's classified," she said coolly. "And you're talking too much, Erikson."

I fought the urge to snort. "Classified," my ass. Like everyone in the whole Commonwealth didn't know exactly who the Brotherhood had beef with and why.

"The paladin trusts him," Erikson said defensively.

"Him, yes. Not necessarily his…" she dragged the word out, and I could see her helmet tip as she looked over Hancock, and me standing next to him, "… companions."

Hancock's eyes flashed like tinder striking flint. I casually reached up to adjust my hat, and gave his forearm a quick warning squeeze as I did so. _Just let it go. Don't start anything._

"Well that's unfortunate," Nate said conversationally, redirecting their attention back to him. "If we knew what it was you were looking for, maybe we'd be able to help out."

"Knight Reyes is just being overly cautious," Erikson said, and there was a strong note of disapproval in his tone. "We can't go into specifics, but we're searching for operatives of a group that we believe to be harboring escaped synths from the Institute."

I'm pretty sure the blood was starting to drain from my face at this point. _Oh Jesus._

Nate crossed his arms and frowned. "Why is that? The Institute's destroyed… they're no longer a threat to any of us."

"Elder Maxson feels differently," Erikson explained. "We don't know what kind of programming went into those synths before the Institute went sky-high. He thinks it's best for the safety of the Commonwealth if we destroy any remaining Institute tech."

"You mean kill," MacCready said flatly.

"The synths may be lifelike, but in the end they're little more than androids. There isn't much to kill."

I had started to shake… both from the fear of being gunned down, and from the anger at their blatant ignorance. All you had to do was talk to a synth to find out that they were clearly intelligent beings with their own free will… their origins didn't change any of that. I had expected this level of prejudice from the BoS, but it didn't make it any easier to witness in person.

Hancock still had his arm around me during this conversation. When he felt me begin to tremble, he very subtly shifted half a step forward; he pulled me closer against his side and a little behind him. The movement was small enough that I don't think anyone else noticed. It was a protective gesture… and while I wasn't usually the one to play the damsel-in-distress card, I couldn't help but be grateful for it.

"Most of those synths are refugees," Nate was arguing. "Regardless of what Maxson thinks he knows, they were free-thinking people kept in a state of slavery. Most of them just want a chance at a peaceful life, a way to start over."

I think the soldier would've shrugged if he wasn't encumbered by his heavy metal suit. "Orders are orders. Think you would be pretty familiar with that… heard you used to be in the service yourself."

"That was a long time ago." Nate's voice had gained a forbidding edge that gave even me the chills. "Everyone is welcome in the Commonwealth. Synths included. So unless Maxson has decided to stop respecting the authority of the Minutemen, then the Brotherhood is to abide by that same expectation."

The standoff tension was real. I honestly think the soldiers were weighing the pros and cons of taking us all out (the conversation clearly hadn't gone the way Knight Erikson had hoped). It was at least a good thirty seconds before he responded.

"I'll be sure to relay the message." Erikson's tone was icy even through the helmet speaker. _Salty much?_

"Maxson knows how to find me," Nate said, by way of dismissal. "Until then, if I hear about anyone from the Brotherhood harassing my settlers- synth or otherwise- we're going to have a problem."

"As you were."

Finally, they marched off… I'm presuming to go back to the Prydwen and whine to Maxson. I could hear Knight Reyes berating her squadmate in lowered, angry tones as they thumped away.

We didn't move until the three of them were out of sight.

"Fuckin' assholes," Hancock swore, the instant they were out of earshot.

"This is going to be trouble," Nate agreed. He arched his eyebrows as he looked back at us. "Though I'm kind of impressed, Hancock. I think that's the first time you kept your mouth shut around the Brotherhood."

"Didn't wanna draw any attention." He sounded a bit like he regretted it, and I couldn't blame him. If we'd been more evenly matched I might've given them a piece of my mind myself.

"Thank you," I said quietly, eyes on the ground. I realized I was still clinging to his side, but I wasn't quite ready to let go yet. I think the touch of another person was the only thing keeping me from dissolving into a panic attack.

I felt him look down at me, and he rubbed my arm. "Hey, you ain't gotta be afraid of those jerkoffs, sister."

"They would've killed me if they found out what I am. Might be. Whatever." The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them. All three of them were looking at me now, and I couldn't meet any of their eyes. "If they had somehow recognized me or figured it out, they would've opened fire… and none of us would be able to stop it." I felt a sick feeling growing in the pit of my stomach. "You three might've even been killed in the process."

Hancock crossed his arms behind his head. "Guess it's lucky for us they're dumb as a sack of bricks, then."

"No, she's right," Nate said. "We need to be treading carefully. I was hoping that Maxson would be reasonable-"

"That guy's an extremist psycho," MacCready countered. "Don't tell me that you're really surprised that he's pulling this kind of sh… stuff."

"I'll see if I can get in touch with Danse when we reach the Castle," Nate continued. "He's close to Maxson. Maybe he can talk some sense into him, help us to avoid a conflict. The last thing the Commonwealth needs is another war."

"War never changes," I muttered. Nate looked back at me and blinked in surprise.

"… No. It never does."

* * *

 ***(That first sequence is a dream, if that wasn't immediately obvious n_n)***


	15. Chapter 15

**(Hancock)**

"Wow."

It was the first word out of Cass in hours. She'd been in a weird mood ever since their run-in with those Brotherhood fucks. He knew she'd been afraid at the time; she'd shivered like a damn leaf when that dick knight mentioned hunting down the synths. Not that he blamed her… even he had to admit that those power armor suits could be intimidating, especially to someone as green as her. The Brotherhood may be a tribe of chrome-plated assholes, but they were very well-equipped assholes. They could do a hell of a lot of damage without someone to keep them in check.

But nothing had happened. Thanks to Nate, there hadn't even been any bloodshed (regrettable as that was). Underlying tension about the synth witchhunt aside, it'd been the most civil encounter with those metal-suited pricks he'd witnessed yet. Didn't seem to matter to her; Cass still spent the rest of the hike down to the Castle with a perma-frown etched into her brow. He'd tried teasing her, tossing a couple jokes her way in an effort to lighten her up, but nothing landed. She'd only acknowledge him with a nod or a halfhearted pull of her lips, if that.

Now, though, her eyes were wide as she took in the impressive concrete-and-steel walls of the Castle.

"It really is something, isn't it?" Nate asked as they made their way around to the entrance. They used to just walk through the gaping hole in the eastern wall, but that was getting patched up now.

"Mighta taken this place for myself if I'd known it was out here," Hancock chimed in agreeably. "Always sorta wanted my own fortress."

"The last thing the Commonwealth needs is Hancock with a fortress," Nate said, a quick grin flashing across his features. "Anyway, you would've had a tough time clearing out that mirelurk queen and the rest of her little colony on your own. We still can't get the stench out of some places."

"Sure it's not just cuz you keep bringin' Mac around?"

Nate chuckled while Mac rolled his eyes.

"Really?" MacCready retorted. "The man without a nose is going to make a joke about how I smell?"

Hancock started to hit Mac with another jibe but was cut short by a familiar female voice calling out.

"Hey, Blue! You made it!"

Hancock stifled a groan when Piper appeared in front of them, beaming. Not that he had anything in particular against the pretty brunette… he'd just had people trying to kill him who disliked him less than she did. If it weren't for her straight-edge sense of morality, she'd be his first bet for "accidentally" taking him out with a little friendly fire. Lucky enough for him that cold-blooded murder was also high on the list of things she found distasteful.

And of course, she'd be on Nate like glue the instant they set foot in the courtyard. She hadn't admitted it, but he was pretty damn sure that she was carrying a torch for the guy. Not that it was surprising… Nate had what Daisy often called "classic" good looks. That and his drive for a lawful, at-peace Commonwealth was just the sort of thing to light the activist reporter's fire. Fuck if he knew why Nate hadn't done anything about it yet.

Piper hugged Nate, lingering just a second too long. Hancock bit his tongue to keep from running his mouth. It wasn't his place to bring out the obvious there, no matter how tempting it was.

"Glad to see Nick's kept you in one piece," Nate said warmly, when she finally stepped back.

Piper scoffed. "It's the other way around, more like. Seems like every day I'm helping him screw on or tighten something or other."

MacCready rolled his eyes. "You're acting like we didn't _just_ see you in Diamond City. That was what, like five days ago?"

Piper hit his shoulder with an open palm. "Don't make me rethink being happy to see you."

"Happy enough to-"

"That 'one-on-one interview' is never gonna happen, Mac."

MacCready shrugged, unaffected. "I'll wear you down eventually."

Hancock couldn't help but snort to himself. If the same line had come out of _his_ mouth…

Piper's attention shifted to him at the noise. "Oh great, they brought you, too. Don't you have a chem empire to run or something?"

"Pipes, you're as beautiful and irritating as ever," he countered amiably. Then, for good measure, he shot her a wink and added, "Loved that last article you wrote on Goodneighbor. What was it you called me? The 'Junkie King of the Commonwealth'?"

Piper crossed her arms. "I was making a point-"

"Sounds like a compliment to me," Cass observed. She'd been so quiet that Hancock had nearly forgotten she was there.

He grinned at her. "I thought so."

Piper blinked in surprise at Cass, noticing her for the first time, and her attitude changed in an instant.

"Hey, you must be the one Blue mentioned on the radio!" She tilted her head, scanning Cass carefully from head to toe. "You really covered with tattoos like he said?"

Cass's eyes narrowed, her exasperation flashing plainly across her face. For a split second it seemed like she was about to tell Piper where to shove her curiosity. Then a mischievous smirk tugged at her mouth… her first smile all day.

"So you're Piper, huh?" she asked, her voice dropping into a purr. "You trying to get me naked, sweetheart? Private shows only."

Nate crossed his arms. "Cass…"

Piper's cheeks flushed pink, but she kept Cass's gaze. "If you'll let me write an article about it, then sure. Could use something a little different now that the Institute's out of the picture."

"Wait, hold up a sec," Hancock interrupted. He nudged Cass's arm. "You're offerin' the reporter a striptease off the bat and hangin' the rest of us out to dry? Tell me I at least get to read the article."

"Don't be a creep," Piper chided him sharply.

"Who's a creep?"

Nick appeared, probably having walked down from one of the staircases. He watched their little huddle with that detective look on his face. He could read all of the details of a scene at a glance. Nick often said he got the skill from his human predecessor. Hancock wasn't sure whether or not that was true, but it sure as hell helped make him a great P.I.

"I'll give you three guesses," Piper replied to him, rolling her eyes.

"Good to see you, Nick," Nate said, reaching out to clasp the old synth's hand. "Thanks for waiting for us."

"Always got time to help a friend in need. Missing shipment was an easy enough case anyway… caravan guard was passing info to a local gang to help them with the hijacking." Nick nodded towards Cass. "So this is our new synth friend, eh?"

"So everyone keeps telling me," Cass replied. Whatever playfulness she'd had evaporated. She watched Nick carefully, sizing him up.

Nick nodded. "Nate told me a little about your troubles already, but it sounds like we've got a lot of ground to cover. Nate, think we could borrow your quarters for a bit to talk?"

"Actually, I would love to maybe wash up and such first," Cass said quickly, almost cutting Nick off. She turned back to Piper. "These guys gotta have running water hooked up by this point, right? Wanna show me where I can make myself a little less gross?"

"Uh… sure," Piper replied, looking a bit thrown off by Cass's sudden change of subject. Hancock felt it too… wasn't the whole point in coming here so that she could have Nick do his detective thing? Why was she skirting off the instant he came up?

Cass directed an uncharacteristically curt nod at Nick before motioning to Piper. "Lead the way. I'm sure the gents can survive without us for a little bit."

"Let us know if you girls need any help," Hancock drawled as they started off.

Cass put a hand on the reporter's shoulder to steer her forward as Piper tried to stop to retort. Hancock grinned as Cass shook her free hand in a backwards wave, ending with a quick single-finger salute.

He, Nate, and Nick watched the two women walk away until they were roughly halfway across the courtyard.

"Well that's something I'm going to be thinking about later," Mac remarked. He gave his head a shake and then started off himself. "This has been awkward and all, but I'm gonna go hijack the radio and make a call to Sanctuary. Need to check in on Duncan."

"Catch up with you later, then," Nick replied. His yellow eyes flicked back to the girls as they disappeared inside the far side of the fortress. "Interesting girl. Gotta say, she didn't seem that thrilled to make my acquaintance."

Hancock tilted his head, eyes still on now-empty courtyard. "Hasn't been herself all day. Had a run-in with those Brotherhood idiots earlier that spooked her."

Nick frowned. "A fight? I know the Brotherhood isn't everyone's favorite group, but I was under the impression that they were ultimately allies."

Nate shook his head. "There was no violence. But if what those knights were claiming is accurate, then it could be that Cass has a good reason to be afraid." Nate adjusted his pack on his shoulder and, like the others, turned to leave. "I should try to get in touch with Danse before it gets too late. I want to nip this in the bud before it becomes a real problem."

"You should just strap a few mini-nukes onto that oversized balloon of theirs."

"Blowing up everything isn't always the solution, Hancock."

Hancock grinned. "Doesn't mean it can't be the solution _now_. You can pretend it's… what's that holiday you told me about? The 4th of July?"

At that, Nate just chuckled lightly and walked away. _Suit yourself, vaultie._

"Well, now that everyone's otherwise occupied," Nick said, "why don't you take a walk with me, John. You can fill me in on the some of the details I've been missing."

"Sure thing, Nicky."

Hancock strolled along beside his friend, watching the minutemen go about their duties with mild interest. The first time he'd been here, it'd felt a lot like Diamond City. These boy scouts might not've jumped him or tossed his ass in the clink, the way the DC guards would, but he was confident the only thing that kept him from being thrown out was Nate's influence. Now, most of them barely glanced their way; the more open-minded ones even inclined their heads or waved to Nick as they passed. Pretty much all of them avoided making direct eye contact, but that was alright. It was better than the alternatives.

"So about this dame, John," Nick said once they had reached the top of the walls, and were a fair ways away from anyone who might overhear. "Nate didn't go into much detail on the radio, but I'm told you're the one who took her in. What's her story?"

Hancock lifted a shoulder. "It's a favor to an old friend. Asked me to keep an eye on her. Turnin' out to be a bigger favor than I thought."

Nick lit one of his ever-present cigarettes and offered one out to him. "Gotta say, I'm a little surprised."

"Why's that?"

"Not like you to take in strays."

Hancock faked a pained expression. "Come on, Nicky. Makin' me sound like a heartless bastard over here."

"I don't mean that. You got a good heart, John… misguided though it often is." The sardonic tone in Nick's voice made Hancock smirk. He wasn't exactly wrong. "But Goodneighbor ain't a town for handouts. Hell, no place is… except maybe Sanctuary, now. You do a lot for your people, but in the end you always expect them to stand on their own. Why get involved with this one?"

Hancock took a drag off his cigarette. "Guess bein' mayor ain't the thrill it used to be. Was lookin' for a way to shake things up again." He rolled his shoulders, trying to ease the stiff muscles in his back. "Haven't been disappointed so far. Girl draws trouble almost as good as ol' Nate does."

"I see." Nick's tone clearly said that he knew Hancock was holding something back, but he didn't press it. "And she thinks she's a synth?"

"She thinks she's a human, actually. But if what she says is the truth, then her bein' a synth makes a hell of a lot more sense."

"Why not take her to Amari? Find out for certain?"

"Suggested that myself. She doesn't trust anyone messin' with her head." Hancock finished his cigarette in a long drag and crushed the butt beneath his heel. "Can't say I blame her."

Nick hummed, and it made the gears in his throat rattle. "What does Nate think?"

"Haven't had a chance to consult him much on the subject."

"Do you trust her? Could be she's working some kind of angle." He gave Hancock a sidelong look. "Don't mean to assume the worst of a friend of yours, but you and Nate both have made more than a couple enemies out here. She might be giving you a sob story to get close."

Hancock thought about that one for a moment.

"Nah, I don't think that's it," he said, speaking slowly. "Considered it at first. But she's had plenty of chances to light out by now, or to cut our throats. I think she's at least mostly tellin' the truth. She ain't like other folks out here. Sorta reminds me of Nate, back when he first stumbled through my gates… if Nate were a lot prettier and swore like Cait without the accent."

Nick hummed, and it made the gears in his throat grate against each other. "I'll reserve judgment for now then. At least until I get a chance to speak with her myself."

"Appreciate it, Nick. I'll owe ya one for this."

"If this girl's really in need of my help, then you don't owe me a thing, John."

* * *

Later on that evening, Hancock had propped himself up against one of the guard posts stationed along the top of the wall. It was fairly late; there were one of two minutemen patrolling, but almost everyone had gone to sleep. Nick was still up, of course, but he was pretty sure the detective was off going over case files or whatever it was he did to keep himself busy at night.

Hancock was taking advantage of the relative privacy to enjoy a few hits of Jet without suffering Piper's withering disapproval. Seriously, that woman could be a nun for all the fun she allowed herself to have. He was willing to bet she wouldn't be so high-strung all the time if she just let herself live a little.

Thinking about Piper made his brain wander over to Cass. Somehow, the girl had successfully evaded Nick for the entire afternoon… which was quite a feat, because while the Castle was pretty big, it still wasn't _that_ big. He'd only seen her for a few minutes here and there. Each time she had been busy, helping with chores or chatting up the residents, and she had always slipped away before he could pin her down.

Her sudden reluctance to get Nick's help just didn't make sense. It filled him with an unease he was doing his best to ignore. It couldn't be that she was worried about Nick's reaction; if there was anyone who'd understand dealing with memories from another time, it was him. Sure, he was a stranger to her, but it was hard not to trust the guy. After all, he'd won over the most xenophobic (he was pretty sure that was word) settlement in the Commonwealth purely by virtue of being a good person. Kindness just emanated from the old synth.

He thought back to what Nick had said earlier, about how Cass may be putting on some kind of long con, for one reason or another. That's not what his instincts were telling him, but he'd been wrong before. And it'd explain why she was making herself scarce; if she had motives to hide, a detective would be the last person she'd want to open up to. Though that raised the question of why she would've agreed to come meet him in the first place.

Christ. He was either too high or not high enough to figure this shit out.

A movement caught his eye down by the ground. Someone had emerged out into the courtyard; he might not have paid it any mind if he didn't recognize the black cowboy hat. _Shit. Fuckin' impeccable timing._

He hated it when the old synth ended up being right. Cass was definitely running; she had her pack and bat in hand, and she moved like she didn't want to be seen… head ducked, shoulders hunched, hugging the walls and shadows. It looked like Nick had called it, and it hadn't taken him more than a few seconds. _Goddammit Nick._

For a moment, Hancock considered letting her go. You couldn't really fake being as green as she was. If she'd been playing them, then his spiteful side was more than willing to let the Commonwealth sort her out. On her own, she wasn't likely to survive the night. Hell, she probably wouldn't survive more than an hour or two.

Another part of him was saying to drag her back and force her to start talking… _really_ talking. He didn't take kindly to being lied to; he'd inflicted a lot of pain on others for a lot less. And if she really was somehow a threat to him or his friends, then they needed to know about it.

Somehow, though, things still weren't adding up in his brain. Experience taught him that double-crossing was the most likely explanation; his gut said differently. If nothing else, if she'd really been stringing them along, it'd make no sense for her to leave now. There was no information she could've learned about any of them that wasn't already public knowledge. And if she was helping plan some attack, why'd she wait until they were in the most defensible location this side of the Commonwealth? It didn't add up.

He juggled all of this inside his head while he watched her slip out into the night. After a minute or two, he came to a sort of compromise with himself: he decided to tail her. If she was working with someone else, then it'd be worth it to find out who that was and what they wanted.

And if she wasn't… well, it'd be a shame to let her get herself killed after coming this far.

* * *

 ***Sorry for the slightly longer than normal delay between updates, folks. I wanted to be able to give you two chapters at once because I know that this particular chapter is mostly casual character talk/ introductions and I didn't want to end on another less-than-thrilling note.**

 **Also, thank you all for dealing with this apparently very long slow burn xD. You guys are amazing.***


	16. Chapter 16

**(Cass)**

My heart ached as I passed through the concrete walls of the Castle and out into the darkness of the night.

And I mean _seriously_ ached. The last time I remembered feeling my heart pound so hard, I'd been trying to survive "Outlast" in VR. Getting punched in the sternum might've hurt less. But there's quite a bit of difference between venturing alone into a monster-riddled hellscape and flailing around like an idiot with a pair of goggles strapped to my face.

(Though as the memory crossed my mind, I took a moment to utter a brief offering of thanks that I hadn't been dropped into _that_ particular game. Jesus Christ.)

It had taken every avoidance skill at my disposal to keep Nick from cornering me without raising too much suspicion earlier in the day. I had been debating about whether or not to leave during the entire hike down to the Castle; once I had decided to go, it just didn't seem fair to get anyone else invested in my problems. It was already shitty enough that I had let things go as far as they had.

None of the guys would've let me out of their sight if they knew what I was planning. So when I could manage it, I had stayed out of sight. When I couldn't, I played like I was getting acquainted with the way things were run; I chatted with the locals, helped with chores, toured the layout, that sort of thing. I made my move once most people were asleep. I knew that Hancock and Nick were both still awake, but I had checked around for both of them thoroughly before making a break for it.

I left a note on the bunk I was supposed to be sleeping in. I didn't say where I was going (mostly because I didn't have a clue myself), but I couldn't bring myself to just vanish without a trace. They were going to be pissed enough that I bailed; no need to add worry on top of it. At least this way they would know that I wasn't kidnapped or anything.

Fuck, but the Commonwealth was a creepy place to be alone at night. There was a full moon, so I might've been able to see okay if it weren't for the fog. The Castle was typical oceanfront property in that regard; the thin road I was inching down was coated in a mist thick enough to obscure anything more than fifteen feet in front of me. I might've given my left hand for a flashlight (or torch, or hell even a fucking _lighter_ ), but realistically any kind of light would've reflected off the fog and made me a beacon in the night. No, spooky as it was, it was better to stay in the dark.

That being said, I had rarely been more on edge. Every shadow was another radioactive mutation waiting to rend me to shreds, each noise some kind of anarchistic psycho lying in wait to ambush me. I was regretting having read Stephen King's _The Mist_ more with each passing second. And I knew it was probably just me being paranoid, but I couldn't shake the feeling of being followed. The sensation covered every inch of my skin in goosebumps.

I'd like to say that I had a plan. I didn't. I had vague notions of tracking down Institute refugees to see if they knew anything about who was after me or what had been done to bring me here. I didn't have the slightest idea about how to achieve that, though. I just knew that I couldn't stomach the thought of getting anyone killed for my sake. I had already been squeamish enough following the supermutant ambush… realizing just how easy it would've been for those Brotherhood knights to take us all out had been the nail in the coffin.

I had made it maybe a couple hundred yards from the Castle when a large, dark shape loomed up in front of me. I froze like a deer in headlights for about thirty seconds before I realized that it wasn't some kind post-apocalyptic harbinger of doom; it was just an old shack.

I exhaled in a long, shaky breath. _Fucking hell._ At this rate I was going to die of a heart attack before anything had the chance to jump me.

Since I was about 99.5% certain that an old wooden lean-to wasn't going to make an attempt on my life, I decided to have a poke around for anything useful. That was a cue I was for sure going to take from the game… if I was going to survive on my own, I was going to scavenge every damn thing I could carry.

The shack- if you could even call it that, the thing was basically a slightly elevated shelf with a roof- was empty except for a few pieces of useless trash. It seemed like it had been abandoned for a while. There were a few planks making a little bridge over to a boat wreck that was wedged a few feet from the shore. Chances were that was empty too, but I wanted to check anyway. It gave me something to focus on besides the certain death that waited in the fog.

I put a cautious foot on the water-logged wood. It protested, but held my weight. The next step held too. I took the final one at a leap; I didn't want to risk losing my balance or having the boards snap. I had only one change of clothes with me, which included the jeans that had a nice tear in the thigh from that mutant hound. I wasn't going to get wet if I could help it.

The entire boat vibrated when I landed on the deck, but it held. _Thank God for small mercies._ I took a quick look around but it was pretty obvious that there was nothing on deck. Didn't mean the cabin was empty, though. I took a couple steps forward, eyes straining as I tried to peer into the deeper shadows.

A low sort of groaning-grunt noise reached my ears before my eyes adjusted. I felt every hair stand on end; I didn't need to see to know what that was. I jerked out of the way just as a feral ghoul launched itself at my face.

My voice came out in a short, high-pitched shriek. I didn't bother pulling out my pistol; I didn't have enough time (in retrospect, I _probably_ should've had it out from the second I left the Castle). I managed to land a pretty decent blow with my bat as the feral charged me a second time; I caught it in the arm. It wasn't anywhere close to a killing blow, but it sure as hell caused the thing some pain. It threw back its head in an angry, gurgling howl that grated every one of my nerves.

I tried swinging again, this time aiming for the head. The feral seemed to anticipate the attack (maybe learning from the painful first lesson?) and actually ducked as it rushed me. My bat whistled harmlessly in empty air as the feral collided with my midsection, shoving me backwards… and knocking us both into the water below.

For a moment the shock was so intense that I lost all brain function. The surf was bitterly cold, colder than anything I'd ever experienced back on the beaches in SoCal. It actually took my breath away. But then I felt ferine hands clawing at me, and remembered I was fighting for my life.

I pushed back, getting enough leverage to breach the surface. The water wasn't very deep; it only came up to my chest. That was still plenty deadly enough when you had a crazy irradiated zombie trying to make a meal of you, though.

I wrestled blindly with the feral. For a creature whose muscles had largely atrophied due to radiation and poor nutrition, it was still surprisingly strong. It was taking every ounce of strength I had in me just to keep it from sinking its teeth into an artery or drowning me. Luckily, its injured arm was slowing it down. I'm sure the saltwater burning in the holes left from the nails didn't feel great either.

Everything was a blur of splashing water and snapping teeth. The salt burned in my eyes and throat. Somehow, I managed to get the feral underneath me. I clenched both hands around its neck as tightly as I could manage and put all of my weight into holding its head beneath the surface. Every muscle screamed with the effort. The thing thrashed and kicked, clawing at my arms. It managed to get a scratch in on my face, just under my eye; it stung like a motherfucker but I kept holding on. I knew that if I let up for even a second, I'd be done. I didn't have the strength to get into this position a second time.

It felt like a goddamned eternity, fighting to keep the feral submerged while I prayed to every god in existence that I didn't lose my footing. But eventually, the feral's struggles became weaker. I could feel its body jerk and buck beneath me, and then there was nothing.

The stillness that followed that moment was almost preternatural. The fog had swallowed up any sound we had made; once we stopped moving, the silence thumped back into place like a too-heavy blanket. The desperate struggle for my life hadn't even caused a ripple in the night.

I'm not certain how long I stood in the water, locked in place. I couldn't let the feral ghoul go. I don't know if it was because I wanted to be certain it was really dead, or if I was just in shock. Dimly, in the back of my mind, I was grateful that it was too dark for me to be able to see its face.

Eventually, I unclenched my hands and shoved the corpse away from me. My movements felt robotic as I waded back to dry land; I had the disconcerting sensation that I was outside of myself. That, I knew, was shock; I remembered feeling that way when the cops were at my door, telling me Mom had been killed.

I was sopping wet and freezing. I needed to change before I got sick… needed to sanitize any scratches that ghoul had landed on me too, or they'd get infected. But once my feet were back on the road, all I could do was stand there and stare back at the gentle waves.

I had just killed a ghoul. With my bare hands. How did people do this sort of thing on a regular basis?

* * *

 **(Hancock)**

Hancock swore quietly to himself as he stepped along the narrow road. The ocean made a great natural barrier for the Castle, but the damn fog that crept up most nights made it difficult as hell to see anything. It was a good thing there was only one path to take in this direction or tracking Cass might've been impossible.

At least he could be fairly certain that nothing too nasty was going to spring on him. After the minutemen retook the Castle, most things with half a brain cleared out of the area. Unless you had an army, there was nothing at the Castle worth taking a blast from the artillery for. He'd seen a demonstration firsthand… those cannons had leveled an old diner like it was folded out of paper.

A short yelp echoed from some distance up ahead. It was quick, and with the combination of drugs he was currently on, he wasn't certain he hadn't just imagined it. He was only about a hundred yards or so away from the Castle's walls. The chances of anything coming in this close were slim to none.

But… with the kind of luck that girl had, it wasn't exactly a bad bet to think that Cass had already landed herself in hot water. Or cold water, maybe. Jumping into that surf would be like taking a hit from that Cryolater gun Nate had found.

He listened closely, but didn't hear too much following that initial cry. There was just the splashing of water to either side. Fog did that sometimes too… swallowed up the noise. Some of the minutemen said they found the quiet peaceful at night. Hancock didn't; too much silence usually meant someone had your skull in their sights. He much preferred being able to hear someone sneaking up on him.

After a minute or so he came up on an abandoned lean-to on the side of the road. He'd seen it before when he was watching Nate's back on a regular basis… he was sort of surprised to see that it was still standing, actually. It wasn't like it had been built for longevity. He almost walked past it until he spotted the shadow of a person standing near the water's edge.

It was definitely Cass. It was hard to see detail in the dark and the fog, but there couldn't have been that many other long-haired women with her height and build running around. She looked more and more like hell the closer he got. She was soaked from head to toe; her clothes clung to her awkwardly, and water spilled off of her in steady drips. The glow from the full moon bleached her already pale skin, turning what he could see of her face a deathly white. She would've passed for some kind of drowned ghost, easy. She stood stock-still, staring out at something by the old boat that was anchored nearby. He followed her gaze; the dark water didn't reveal much, but he could just barely pick out the shape of a body, bobbing in the waves.

Well, now he knew what that scream had been about. Something had attacked her. Lucky for her it looked to have been just one thing… ferals, raiders, mirelurks, whatever, they all tended to run in packs. She was a scrappy chick, but there was no doubt that she'd have been the one belly-up if she had been outnumbered.

His boots scraped lightly on loose gravel as he approached her. A twitch traveled through her at the sound, like she was coming out of a trance. A moment later and he was backpedaling as she whipped around, arm flung out to slash at him with what was probably the knife she kept at her belt. It was a fast attack, but clumsy. He dodged easily by rocking a half-step back, then swept in under her guard to pin her against the supports for the old shack. He seized her wrist in one hand to stop her from swiping at him again and kept his other arm barred against her throat, stilling her.

"Keep that up and I'll think you ain't happy to see me." There wasn't a lot of humor in his voice. He couldn't afford to be sympathetic or friendly, not just yet anyway.

Cass's eyes were huge, dilated with fear. It took a beat or two for the adrenaline to fade and be replaced with recognition. She stopped fighting his hold the instant she realized it was him.

"Hancock?" Her voice was high, but she could speak easily enough; he wasn't pressing on her neck _that_ hard. "Did you follow me?"

"Decided to go for a midnight stroll, didja?" His voice sounded clipped even to his own ears. "Got news for ya, sister; you ain't as stealthy as you think."

She blinked a couple times. "You're pissed." It wasn't a question.

"What was your first clue?" He tightened his grip on her wrist until she winced. "Where ya headed?"

"Is that really necessary?"

"Maybe." His gaze was hard as he watched her face. "I knew something was up, the way you kept dodgin' Nick and everyone else all afternoon. Shoulda been payin' more attention. So what's the deal? You runnin' to tell your friends we're all corralled together in one place?"

She snorted. "What friends?"

"Gonna need you to answer the question, sister. I ain't playin' around."

She stared at him for a moment, and her gaze changed from wide-eyed to flinty.

"Seriously?" she asked. "You think that I'd…" Her jaw clenched. "Get off me, Hancock."

"Not a ch-"

"I said _get the FUCK off me!_ "

Her free arm shoved his elbow upwards, giving her the space to duck away. She thrust her knee towards him at the same time; not going for the groin, which would've been the obvious thing, but rather going sideways towards his hip. He had to lean a little awkwardly to avoid the worst of that hit; he still had ahold of her wrist, though. He pulled her off balance and expertly twisted her arm behind her back. She immediately dropped her knife to avoid cutting herself. He wasn't hurting her, not yet, but he kept enough pressure on her shoulder to remind her that he could.

"Where were you going, Cass?"

"Nowhere." She was panting, winded.

"Wrong answer."

"Well then I don't have a right one for you." She shifted in discomfort. "You're making an ass of yourself, Hancock. Just let me the fuck go."

"Not until you tell me why you're runnin'."

"You've got to be fucking kidding me." She exhaled in a frustrated huff. "I just… I didn't have a destination in mind yet. I figured it'd be better if I was on my own, alright?"

"So that makes you a liar, stupid, or suicidal. Take your pick."

She turned to glare at him over her shoulder. "You think you got it all figured out, don't you? You really that quick to assume I'm off to fuck you guys over?"

"Sister, in my experience, people don't bail for no reason."

"I just gave you a reason!"

"Not a good enough one."

"Oh for _fuck's_ sake." She shook her head, free hand pressing against her temple. "I couldn't stomach the thought of any of you getting killed, alright? It's just…" She took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. "I'm not worth it. Okay? There. Happy now?" She tugged pointedly against his hold. "Now will you let my goddamned arm go? Because you're making a really shitty night a hell of a lot worse."

He wordlessly released her. Whatever he'd been expecting when he followed her out here… well, that certainly wasn't it. He hadn't heard the lie in her voice, though. Didn't mean there wasn't one there, but she'd sounded pretty damn genuine.

She stepped a couple feet away, rotating her shoulder and rubbing her neck. She kept her back turned to him. He watched her closely, but nothing about her body language screamed nerves or deceit. Fatigue, yes. Irritation, definitely. Probably even some embarrassment from the way her shoulders were hunched.

He'd dealt with too many liars to count over the years. Some had been good, others not so much, but it never mattered. He'd always been able to tell. And now… either Cass was the best actress he'd ever seen, or she was telling the truth.

"You're dead serious, aren't you?" he asked.

She snorted. "Call me crazy, but the thought of my friends dying for my sake just isn't something I find amusing." She cleared her throat and faced him again, arms crossed. "Though I'm not exactly against the thought of you getting your ass kicked at the moment. You really thought I was running off to somehow betray all of you?"

Something about her tone made that idea sound far more foolish than it had been just a little while ago.

"So lemme get this straight…" he said slowly. "You were trying to leave because you were worried about me or Nate or Mac gettin' hurt?" He could feel a frown pull at his brow. "Sister, I told ya before-"

"I know what you said before." She met his gaze unflinchingly; her eyes were dark with fatigue, shoulders taut. "Doesn't matter. I've already been responsible for the death of a loved one. I can't take being the cause of another."

His frown deepened. "I thought you said you didn't kill anyone?"

"I didn't kill her." She bent over, scooping up her pack from the ground and her bat from the water. "I didn't pull the trigger, anyway."

She rummaged through her pack, pulling her spare clothing out and draping it over the ladder next to her. Clearly she was done with that part of the conversation. Hancock had enough sense not to push it. He mulled over what she had said and didn't pay what she was doing much mind until she started shrugging out of her jacket.

He tilted his head, suddenly intent. "Hey, if you're lookin' to apologize, that ain't a bad way to start."

She made a face at him over her shoulder. "I'm soaking wet and it's no warmer than like fifty degrees out here. Not looking to make my night worse by catching pneumonia." Her eyes narrowed. "And I'm _not_ going to apologize."

Well, so much for levity. He supposed he kind of deserved it, at least a little. Assuming the worst kept you alive, but wasn't always the best thing as far as friendships were concerned.

She finished peeling off her drenched jacket and tossed it up on the platform in front of her. Hancock turned away when she made to pull her tank top off too, but not before catching a peek of the ink she had covering her back. He didn't get much more than a glimpse of the lines, but whatever it was took up her skin from shoulder to hip.

He listened to the sounds of her undressing and lit up a cigarette to distract himself from the urge to look.

"You know, doll, if you're really set on headin' out on your own, I ain't gonna stop ya."

He could hear her snort derisively behind his back. "Really? Cuz you seemed dead-set on doing that very thing about two minutes ago."

He smirked a little and continued. "But lemme tell ya… no one survives out in the wasteland without some kinda backup. Friends, hired guns, whatever. Don't matter how good you are."

"Guess I'm gonna have to chance it, then."

He glanced back at her; she was pulling her dry pair of jeans up over her hips, so he figured it was okay to face her again.

"Danger's part and parcel of wasteland livin', doll." She didn't respond, so he continued. "Everyone bites the dust sooner or later. And I don't know about you, but if I had to choose, goin' down helping a friend is a hell of a lot better than the other options."

"Then choose a better friend than me." She rubbed roughly at her cheeks, then hissed and swore to herself. "Christ, that fucking _stings_."

"You alright?"

She tipped her head forward, using her hair to hide that side of her face as she stubbornly continued to re-pack her things. "I'm fine. Just got scratched by that feral when I…" She trailed off, and her whole body shuddered. "Doesn't matter."

He hummed thoughtfully. "Between takin' a swim and gettin' tagged by a feral, probably wouldn't be a bad idea to get you some Rad-Away. Don't wanna end up lookin' like me."

"I'll keep that in mind."

He couldn't help but chuckle. "Listen, sister… you can play tough all you want, but you try to face the Commonwealth solo, and you'll be dead before sunup. At least try to be smart about it." He swiped up her knife off the road and extended it out to her, hilt first. "Talk to Nick; let him do his P.I. thing, dig up what he can on whoever's got your number. Least that way you got a direction to go in instead of stumblin' around with your head up your ass." He grinned when she gave him a look. "You ain't gotta bring any of us with ya when you find out where it is you need to go. Promise."

She studied him for a long moment with her brow pinched. She took a beat to look out into the fog, and then she exhaled in a resigned sigh.

"Fine," she said, accepting her knife from him and tucking it back at her waist. "You win. For now, anyway. Guess I'm not as ready to face death as I thought."

"First smart thing you've said all night."

* * *

 ***For those of you who have never seen/ played "Outlast"... I suggest looking up a stream of it. I can't play the damn game for more than 5 minutes without having an anxiety attack... which is saying something since I tend to be a horror/ suspense junkie xD.**

 **Went back and forth a lot over how this particular chapter was going to go, but I'm pretty sure I'm satisfied with it. For now, anyway. Will be doing my best to post the next update soon(ish)!**

 **In the meantime, thanks as always for the comments and favs, my loves. 3***


	17. Chapter 17

***Just a heads up... #NSFW. Save this chapter for when you're safely at home/ by yourself, loves! ;)***

* * *

"Well this looks like a horror movie waiting to happen," I mused as followed Hancock through the sublevels of the Castle. "If I followed you trustingly down here to my own gruesome demise I am going to be _so_ pissed at myself."

He chuckled. "If I wanted to kill ya, I'd have done it already."

I didn't doubt it. "Gee, that's really comforting, thanks."

"Anytime."

We came upon what I took to be the Castle's infirmary. In the game, I remembered just having a little medical trade stand set up somewhere in the courtyard; apparently they decided to expand on that. Now there was a fully-functioning clinic. Five or so cots lied the far wall- all empty at the moment- and the rest of the area was filled with tables, a few chairs, and miscellaneous medical supplies. Sharp, pokey tools were suspended in a few random glass jars filled with (hopefully) alcohol. Lights anchored into the concrete walls illuminated everything well enough, but the yellowish glow of the bulbs did little to help the creepy dungeon vibe.

Hancock started shifting through the piles of stuff on the tables. I figured he'd find what he was looking for quicker than I could, so I stepped over to an old cracked mirror that someone had put up on the wall.

"Oh for fuck's sake," I muttered.

I looked like a corpse. I had seaweed in my hair, circles so dark they could be bruises under my eyes, and my skin was bone-white with cold. I immediately started gathering up my hair into a haphazard topknot to try to minimize the damage. Not a cute look, but better than dealing with lank, ropey, sea-soaked strands around my face. Once I got that out of the way I took a closer look at the scratch under my eye. It was a pretty decent hit: a three-inch long cut following the curve of my cheekbone. Any higher and that feral would've clawed my eye out. Pretty damn lucky, all things considered.

I shrugged out of my flannel shirt to take a look at my other injuries. The scratches on my arms had all stopped bleeding. None of them were too deep, though they were swollen and angry-red with the probability of infection. I couldn't see any bruises but could definitely feel them. Nothing was life-threatening though, so by wasteland standards I might as well have taken a walk in the park.

"So what's the story on that one?"

I raised my eyes to see Hancock approaching me in the mirror. He had a stimpak and a bag of yellowish liquid that I took to be Rad-Away in one hand; he was gesturing towards my back with the other. I knew you could see hints of my tat at my shoulders, but my tank top covered the vast majority of it. I crossed my arms and gave him a look.

"You watched me change?"

He winked at me. "Only for a second." I rolled my eyes, and he chuckled. "No worries, doll; didn't see anything you wouldn't want me to. Just happened to catch a peek. That all one piece?"

I nodded. My back tattoo was easily my biggest, and it was also the one I least enjoyed talking about.

"It's for my mother. I got it done after she died."

"That person you mentioned earlier… that who you were talkin' about?"

"Yep." I did not have enough emotional energy left to delve into that conversation. I jerked my chin towards the items in his hand, eager to change the subject. "Hate to ask, but would you mind giving me a hand with those? I'm not great with needles."

I could see amusement pass over his face. "Aw, come on now, Cass. You ain't gonna tell me you're afraid of gettin' pricked, are ya?"

I arched an eyebrow. "If that's going to be the case, then I wildly misread your intentions in bringing me down here."

That one took him a second, but when it sunk in his laugh echoed through the hollow tunnels. Hearing it actually made me smile in spite of myself.

"Not bad," he observed, still chuckling. Then he canted his head thoughtfully. "Doesn't sound like a bad idea, now that you mention it…"

That sent a jolt straight to my lower abdomen. _Whoa, whoa, whoa, time to backtrack_. Sarcastic flirting was one thing, but that was pretty fucking close to a direct proposition. I needed to behave. He'd been ready to- if not kill me- at least kick my ass less than an hour ago. I was half-dead and in need of serious rest. My inhibitions were probably not where they should be. All of those were great reasons for me to shift gears on this conversation, _fast_.

Not to mention there was the fact that I'd promised myself I wasn't going to start anything here. Yep. That was still a thing.

So in response, I gave a noncommittal hum. "Yes, because every woman feels sexiest after a wrestling death match in filthy, freezing ocean water." I stepped over to the nearest cot and plopped myself down on it. "So you gonna help me or not?"

He gave the barest shake of his head but moved to sit down next to me. "Got ya covered, sister."

 _Whew. That was close._

I rested my back against the concrete wall as I watched him ready the stimpak. I had one leg stretched out along the mattress, the other dangling down off the side. I tried not to think about that thick needle going into my skin. I wasn't afraid of shots, but it didn't mean I was going to enjoy it. Stimpaks fucking hurt.

"I didn't hear any gunshots earlier," he said, motioning for my arm. I extended my right arm obediently; he lightly tied a strip of cloth around my bicep and tapped the crook of my elbow a couple of times to make the veins pop. "You beat that feral to beat with your bat or what?"

I grimaced. "I, uh… I drowned it."

He raised his brows and glanced up at my face. "You sure like doin' things the hard way, don't ya?"

"It wasn't by choice. It surprised me… I had to improvise." His hands were warm; it was _really_ hard not to think about how nice they felt against my chilled skin. "I'd just as soon not think about it ever again."

"Seems to me a girl like you would enjoy a good fight."

I tilted my head back, eyelids dropping closed wearily. "No, not especially. I don't have any delusions about my capabilities… any fight I win is through luck." I felt the bite of the stimpak through my skin and hissed briefly. "'Do no harm but take no shit' tends to be my motto. I'll throw down if I gotta but if I can avoid violence, I will."

"Huh."

A smile twitched at my lips. "That's the sound of someone who disagrees but isn't willing to say so."

He chuckled. "That obvious?"

"It's not like you try to hide it. You get off on being the better fighter. Stronger, faster, smarter, whatever." I shifted a little as he finished with the stimpak, giving up a small relieved sigh as the needle left my arm. "So long as you don't go all raider on me and start hurting people for the fun of it, you won't get any judgment here. Brawl to your heart's content."

He made a noise that sounded pleased. I felt the mattress shift as he leaned forward to set the partially-used stimpak on the nearby table.

"There. That should take care of all those scuffs and dings. This one might end up scarrin', though."

I twitched when I felt his thumb brush just underneath the scratch on my cheek. My eyes blinked open to look at him, but just as quick he was already busying himself with the next syringe.

 _Did I just imagine that?_ "Well, I've already got piercings and ink. Might as well add scarification to this list." He gave me a sort of questioning look and I shrugged. "Some people would pay to have designs burnt or cut into their skin. Way less popular than what I've done, but it was still a thing."

"No shit?" He shook his head. "Can't say I understand the appeal, but alright."

"If you think that's weird, remind me to tell you about body suspension and sub-dermals one of these days." I watched him fill the empty syringe with Rad-Away and wrinkled my nose. "Are you sure that one's necessary? I don't feel sick or anything. Radiation poisoning's supposed to make you feel nauseated, right?"

"At first, yeah. Better safe than sorry though." He tapped the glass of the vial, chasing out any air bubbles. "Rads can build up on ya if you're not careful. Might not matter so much if you end up bein' a synth I guess, but until you know for sure…"

I frowned a little. "Synths don't get sick from rads?"

"Nah." He took my arm again. "Nate learned about it when he was doin' his thing out with the Institute. Guess ol' Shaun took a little inspiration from us ghouls when he designed the Gen 3's. Nate says they're all supposed to be rad-resistant, and they don't age... or at least they don't age quick."

I'd had suspicions about that second part, but the first was news to me. "Huh. Well I guess being a synth wouldn't be all bad, then."

Hancock slid the second needle through my skin as I talked. This one, though smaller than the stimpak, was much more uncomfortable; the Rad-Away burned as it entered my bloodstream. Hancock had to tighten his hold on my arm when I reflexively tried to flinch back.

"Sorry," he said sympathetically. "Haven't needed Rad-Away in a few years, but I remember that it used to sting like a bitch goin' in."

"No kidding." Luckily, it only took a few seconds. I felt his thumb press into the crook of my elbow after, gently massaging the tender area to ease the soreness. It helped, actually.

"Hey," I said, after a couple seconds of semi-awkward silence. "I know I said I wasn't gonna apologize… but I am sorry. You know, for trying to bail how I did. That was kind of a dick move. I've never been very good with being impulsive." I gave his back a bit of a playful shove with my knee. "Though if I'd known that your first impulse would be to assume I was stabbing you in the back, I might've waited to talk to you about it first."

He shrugged unapologetically. "Can't be too careful. Got a lotta people out there who'd like to see everyone in here dead."

I nodded. "I get it, I do. I should've considered that. But then there's that whole impulse-control thing." I looked down at my hands. "I know that the phrase 'trust me' probably doesn't hold a hell of a lot of weight at the moment, but I really would rather be dead than have anything happen to you or the others on my account. I don't think I could live with that."

"Good to know." He paused, and then added, "Sorry for roughin' ya up."

I snorted. "Don't worry about it. Compared to that feral, you were downright gentle."

I was still pretty damn aware that his hand hadn't yet left my arm. It slid down a little as we talked, sort of loosely gripping my forearm now rather than my elbow. I couldn't tell if it was intentional or not. I probably should've moved away, but to be honest the contact felt… nice. Comforting, even.

Actually, once I picked up on it, suddenly that was all I could think about. I hadn't realized how touch-starved my brain had gotten over the last month. Aside from my brief performance with Hancock in Diamond City and one or two hugs from Wiseman, I hadn't done much more than briefly shake hands with anyone. I could actually feel the more primal parts of my brain trying to take the reins, like the proverbial devil on my shoulder.

 _Uh oh. Oh, this isn't good. I'm in trouble. I'm in sooo much trouble._

It must have been a good thirty seconds since either of us had moved or said anything. It was awkward, but there was also enough of a crackle in the air that I was getting goosebumps along my arms. I needed to stand up, pull away, _something_. But I didn't want to.

"Well… thanks," I mumbled at length. "I guess I should… I don't know, go try to get some rest or whatever."

"Probably." His trademark smirk appeared on his face, and his eyes dropped to skim over my lips. "Unless you're in the mood to try something we both might regret later."

 _Fuuuckkkk._ There it was. And goddamn it, I wanted to say yes. I felt a wave of heat roll from my face down to my core as I recalled how good it'd felt to kiss him; it made my little shoulder-devil go nuts.

There were plenty of reasons for me to walk away. I was having trouble remembering any of them.

I took a deep breath. _You can do this._ "Hancock-"

I didn't get to finish whatever I'd been about to say, because suddenly I was speaking into his mouth. And just like that, any hope I'd had of reasoning my way out was torched.

My lips parted in a ragged gasp as I tasted him. I felt like an addict who'd just been offered a hit; the need for touch, for closeness, for contact that wasn't violence was overwhelming. This was a _such_ bad idea. Fuck if that didn't make this that much hotter. I didn't even have the excuse of being drunk or high… and I knew I wasn't going to be able to stop.

 _Fuck it. If you're going to go to hell…_

Hancock tugged me down until my back pushed into the mattress. His thigh pressed between my legs, and the warm lines of his body melding against mine felt so good I couldn't think straight. Hell, I couldn't think _at all_. I couldn't remember the last time I'd needed this so badly.

He kissed me until my lungs burned, tongue and teeth making up for what his thin, scarred lips lacked. When I finally had to break away for air he dragged his lips along my jaw and down to my throat. My hips undulated against his as he teased the sensitive spots on my neck. He kept one hand knotted in my hair, arching my head back to give him better access; his other hand had slipped up under my shirt to splay across my ribcage. His fingers curled into my ribs, counting them – one, two, three, four- before squeezing around my breast. His thumb rolled over my nipple and I could feel bolts of pleasure shoot straight down through my body.

"Like that, do ya?" he drawled into my ear when I moaned. His voice had deepened to a growl that I could feel rumbling through his chest. I liked it so much that every part of me shivered.

But, true to form, I couldn't keep my mouth shut for very long.

"You can do better than that," I challenged, grinning when I caught a spark flash in his eyes.

"You're getting' yourself in trouble, doll."

 _Don't I fucking know it._

An instant later my shirt was on the floor. My jeans joined it a second after. So far, he'd only shed his coat and hat, which I thought was a little unfair… though technically I didn't need _all_ of his clothes off to achieve the end goal. He captured my mouth in another kiss and then sat back for a moment to take in the length of my body.

I squirmed a little self-consciously; I was very used to this sort of thing from other people I'd slept with, but I was also far from how I usually looked when hooking up. Lack of a regular hygiene and skin/hair routine aside, I was the definition of a mess. Hancock didn't seem to care. His eyes drank me in with an expression that was almost enough to make me start panting.

"Not nice to keep a girl waiting," I teased, gyrating underneath him in an attempt to get back to the action.

His teeth flashed in a wolfish grin. Moving casually, like he had all the time in the world, he reached a hand between my legs; his fingertips ghosted over my inner thighs before dipping down where I was dying for them to go.

"You don't seem to mind too much," he taunted as he touched me. Not like I could deny it; I couldn't have been wetter if you'd dunked me back in the ocean.

I didn't have a witty response to come back with. My eyes had rolled back into my head as I felt his thumb stroke over my clit in lazy circles. I actually cried out when he pressed a finger inside of me… for real, not that fake porno bullshit I'd pulled before in Diamond City. He had found my G-spot like I had neon signs pointing to it. The fact that he could achieve that without ever having had access to Google made it all the more impressive.

But even though his fingers were doing a really, _really_ good job, I wanted to get to the main event. I decided to take matters into my own hands (figuratively speaking). He was straddling me, so it wasn't very difficult to buck him off balance and reverse our positions before he could do anything about it.

He folded his hands behind his head, a smug look on his face. "Someone's impatient."

I leaned forward to briefly kiss him and earned a growl when I bit his lip. "Stop talking."

I made quick work of the flag knotted at his waist and tugged his pants down over his hips. I had been able to feel the fact that he was fully intact earlier… something I had sort of always wondered about with ghouls. I stroked a hand down his shaft appreciatively for a moment- scarring aside, he actually had a really nice cock- before positioning myself over him and rocking my hips backwards.

We both groaned as he slipped inside me. My nerve endings rejoiced gleefully, reminding me that it had been months since I'd last fucked anyone. His hips bucked in rhythm against mine as I ground into him; his hands rested just over my ass and pulled me down with every thrust, driving him deeper inside me. A mixture of swearing and delighted wordless noises were spilling out of my mouth. I was probably waking up the entire goddamn fortress and couldn't find it in myself to care.

Before long I could feel that awesome pressure building up inside my muscles. My movements became more erratic as I focused all of my concentration on that feeling. I pressed the heel of my palm against myself as I continued to ride him, and then my brain went blissfully blank. Pleasure rushed through every nerve ending; I'm pretty sure I screamed. I came hard enough for my orgasm to ripple through all of my muscles and leave my ears ringing. Hancock followed before I even finished. He came with a snarl that nearly had me turned on all over again, his hands clenching my hips hard enough to bruise. There was a brief second of conditioned, startled panic when I felt him come inside me- after all, condoms weren't exactly a thing in the wasteland- but I quickly reminded myself that ghouls were infertile. Any other concerns I'd have to worry about later.

Whatever energy I'd had left, that orgasm had drained it. I slumped against his chest and listened to his thumping heartbeat as we both caught our breath. He held onto me as aftershocks rocked periodically through my frame.

"Damn," Hancock said appreciatively, once he had recovered enough to speak. I only hummed in agreement. With every muscle relaxed and my brain awash in the glow of oxytocin and endorphins, I wasn't going to be long for the world. Intelligible speech felt beyond me.

He shifted me gently to the side. Not completely shoving me off, but enough so that I didn't have my whole weight on top of his stomach. I kept my head pillowed against his chest; I'm a cuddler after sex, I'll admit it. And now that one need was taken care of, all I wanted to do was sleep.

"Want me to go?" he asked. His tone was neutral, letting me know I could choose either way.

"You're warm," I murmured, snuggling a little closer against him. His chest shook when he chuckled.

"Guess that answers that."

I think he might've said something else too, but it was lost on me. I fell into the soft blackness of sleep with the determined notion that I'd worry about any consequences in the morning. No sense in spoiling a perfectly good afterglow with unresolvable anxiety.

* * *

 ***Huge thanks to all of you who have been waiting so patiently for this particular scene. I know that the slow burn has been REAL with this fic.**

 **My goal with this particular scene was to find a balance between sexiness and realism. Hoping I achieved that. If not, there is a very good chance I'll return later to edit this.**

 **Definitely NOT the end and there is much to come for Cass and Hancock's relationship. Stay tuned. I've got lots of things planned out.**

 **Will do my best not to be lame and take forever getting the next chapter out, but... y'all know how I do. I'm a perfectionist lol.**

 **As always, I love all of your comments/ suggestions and favs! Thank you all for taking the time to reach out. It means the world to me 3.***


	18. Chapter 18

**(Cass)**

Satisfied and guilty aren't generally two emotions that go together, unless it's a line in a Maroon 5 song. Nevertheless, that is exactly what I felt when I woke up the next morning.

Actually, what got me up was that too-comfy feeling when you know you've overslept. For possibly the first time since I got Twilight-Zoned into the Commonwealth, I had slept hard enough to forget where I was. I jerked upright in a small panic, thinking that I had slept through my alarm and was going to be late for work. It took a solid 20-30 seconds of blinking confusedly at my surroundings to remember where I was.

 _Oh. OH._

Oh shit. I had broken my rule. I slept with Hancock. I even glanced down at myself to make sure I wasn't dreaming. _Yep, still naked. Totally happened. Fuck._

Hancock was nowhere to be seen… and neither was anyone else, for that matter. For that I was intensely grateful. I didn't blame him for skipping out; being that he didn't need more than a few hours of sleep every so often, I'm sure he wasn't into listening to me snore for hours on end. At some point he had covered me with a blanket, which was considerate of him. Then I glanced over at the table nearest to my cot and felt my cheeks go red. My clothes were neatly folded and resting on top of my pack, with my bat propped up against the wall. That took the gesture from considerate to downright sweet… which was a little problematic.

Okay, _really_ problematic.

I was attracted to Hancock, there was no getting around admitting that now. But I needed this to be a one-and-done, friends-with-benefits sort of deal. If either of us went around catching feels it was just going to end up in pain and disappointment.

I wrapped myself in the rough blanket, stepped over to the mirror… and immediately regretted it. If I had thought my hair was bad the night before, it was _nothing_ compared to now. I looked like a drastically messier Helena Bonham Carter. And- if my nose was anything to go by- I smelled like an unwashed sailor. Awesome.

So the first order of business was to go try to clean myself up. I was pretty sure I could remember where Piper had shown me to find the showers… they had gotten the water purifier hooked up to some modified internal plumbing that was actually kind of cool, if you were into that sort of thing. I was just glad that I could clean myself without having to resort to a sponge bath.

After that… I guess I needed to figure out what I was going to do with Hancock. Not a prospect I was particularly stoked about, all things considered. I needed to have a talk with Nick too. Hancock had been right; even if I was going to go off on my own, I didn't need to be stupid about it. I'd at least listen to Nick's counsel. As for whether or not I'd keep the guys around… well, that might be an extra bad idea now, after last night. I could figure that out later though. One issue at a time.

It was definitely after noon by the time I reemerged on the surface. It had taken me a while to tame the rat's nest that my hair had become… and I had been procrastinating just a teeny bit, I'll admit. After being underground for most of the morning, the sudden glare of the sun made me flinch back like a vampire.

"Hey, look who's finally up!"

" _Jesus_ Christ!" I jumped so hard I about ran into the wall as both Nick and Hancock emerged from the hallway behind me. "Do you fucking practice sneaking up on people or is it a god-given talent?"

"Little of both." There was devilry written all over Hancock's face. "Sleep well?"

I raised my eyebrows, knowing _exactly_ what he was getting at. _Two can play at that game._

"Not the _best_ night of sleep I've ever had, but I slept well enough, yeah," I replied nonchalantly.

He wasn't fazed in the slightest. "It's almost noon. Must've been pretty worn out."

I opened my mouth to retort, but Nick stepped in. "Alright, you two. Enough with the innuendo. No accounting for taste on your part," he added to me.

Yeah, I could've figured Nick would already know. It was a good thing I didn't have my heart set on discretion.

Hancock feigned a pained expression. "Aw, that hurts, Nicky."

Nick ignored him. "As chance would have it, we were just talking about you."

I rolled my eyes. "No shit."

"Hey, easy on the attitude there, smartass." I blinked in surprise at him and then grinned; I hadn't expected that. "As I was saying… we didn't get much of a chance to get acquainted yesterday. I was starting to think that I was wasting my time here."

"I'm sorry," I said sincerely. "Seriously. I was having sort of a crisis-of-judgment moment. I know you're helping me as a favor to Nate and Hancock, and I didn't mean to waste your time."

Nick nodded, seeming mollified. "No harm, no foul."

I held up my palms in a peaceful gesture. "And hey, I'm here now, right?" I extended my hand towards him. "Name's Cass Black. I've heard a lot of great things about you."

Nick shook my hand, but very gingerly. His right hand was the one that was all exposed metal, and I think he was afraid of accidentally hurting me.

"Nick Valentine, and likewise."

I snorted. "Now _that_ is a baldfaced lie, but I appreciate the attempt." I looked between the two of them, arms crossed loosely. "So, interview time?"

* * *

 **(Hancock)**

Hancock leaned against the cool concrete wall, only half listening as Cass wrapped up telling her story to Nick. The old synth had borrowed Nate's quarters for the talk; it was quieter and more private than trying to conduct it out in the open. He had tried to shoo Hancock off for "confidentiality," but this was more interesting than watching chores or antagonizing Piper for the millionth time. And Cass hadn't been bothered, so eventually Nick caved.

"That's quite a tale you've got there," Nick said at last, expression thoughtful. "Seems the Commonwealth's a bit of a magnet for folks lost out of time."

"Yeah, I guess it sorta is," Cass agreed. "That, or crazies."

"If you're crazy, then that's the most impressively detailed delusion I've come across yet."

Cass smiled hesitantly. "So you think you can help me?"

Nick nodded. "At the very least, we should be able to track down this guy who's sending mercs out after you. And I think you're right; whoever this is, is probably the same person who's responsible for this mess in the first place. What happens after that will be up to you."

"Thank you, Nick. If there's anything I can do to help in the meantime…"

"I'll be sure to let you know."

Nick stood up then, and Cass followed suit. He headed for the door, but Cass paused, shifting her weight from foot to foot.

"Hey, uh, Hancock? Mind hanging back for a sec?"

 _Bet I know what this is about._ "Sure thing, doll." He waved Nick on with a jerk of his head as he searched through his pockets. "Catch up with ya in a few, Nicky."

Cass waited until Nick had closed the door behind him. She was definitely nervous; she kept fidgeting, tugging and twisting at her braid. Hancock found the pack of cigarettes he was looking for and shook one out into his palm, waiting quietly for her to speak.

She took a deep breath, brow furrowed slightly. "Listen, Hancock, about last night…"

"What about it?" he asked, mumbling around his cigarette as he tried to get his lighter to catch. It took a few tries… he was going to have to refill it soon.

"We're cool, right?" He glanced up at her as she spoke; her eyes were evenly on him but her cheeks were pink, fingers still restlessly fiddling with her hair. "I mean, that was fun and all, but I'm not exactly looking to start anything. Romantically speaking, that is. Just want to make sure we're on the same page."

He finally got the damn lighter to catch and took a healthy drag off the cigarette before answering. "I ain't much into attachments myself. Nothing to worry about here." He let his eyes drop over her body then, languidly reminiscing. "Though if you ever get the urge for a little _stress relief_ again…"

She sighed, clearly relieved. "Okay. Good. Friends-With-Benefits I can work with. I just don't want to end up starting something if I'm not gonna be here to see it through, you know?"

He cocked his head. "You mean like you're still gonna try takin' off?"

"No. Well, maybe. I haven't decided yet. But I meant more like I'm not gonna be in the Commonwealth forever, you know? I want to go home."

"To California? Gonna be a hell of a walk."

Cass opened her mouth like she was going to reply, but shut it again without saying anything. Her eyes dropped to her feet. Hancock looked at her a moment, wondering what he said that was wrong, and then the lightbulb went off in his head.

"Wait, you don't mean… you think you're gonna make it back to your own time?"

She gave a little start like he'd pinched her. Color spilled more heavily into her cheeks.

"Well, yeah," she replied defensively. "I mean, that's a possibility, right? I know everyone thinks I'm a synth, but how would someone be able to fabricate my entire-"

He snorted. "And people say _I'm_ crazy. Ain't gonna happen, doll."

She blinked at him, taken aback. "… You can't know that."

"I know it's hard to accept, but time travel ain't one of the things that Institute managed to crack… and they were the smartest eggheads around. If they did, I'd bet every cap I own that ol' Nate woulda jumped on the first ship outta here." He could see the shocked look on her face changing to anger, but couldn't stop the words from coming out of his mouth. "Chances are, someone in the Institute did some weird personality mumbo-jumbo with you the same way they did with Nick. The memories, they all _feel_ real, but they ain't really yours. The sooner you accept that, the easier all this is gonna be."

She was glaring at him now, her gray eyes as flinty as he'd ever seen them. "That so, huh?"

"There ain't some kind of magic spaceship that's gonna take you back to the time you remember," he said, voice softening a little bit. "All you're gonna do is drive yourself nuts if you chase that. Go find the fuck who put the shit in your head and put a bullet in him, head back west if ya need to. Whatever you gotta do. But that place and time you keep describin'… it's a fairy tale, doll. It ain't real. Never was."

For a moment she stared down at the concrete, jaw clenched. He watched her uneasily, unsure of what to expect. He worried that she might start crying, but then she unexpectedly lashed out, seizing one of the wooden chairs and chucking it viciously across the room. It struck the other wall with a loud clatter, a few pieces flying off. He didn't move but quietly tensed up, wondering if she was going to go after him next.

" _Fuck_ you, Hancock." She bit off each word sharply. "You can be a real fucking bastard, you know that? I can't believe…" She strode for the door without giving him a chance to reply, and paused with her hand on the handle. "Just… leave me the fuck alone. Forget I fucking told you anything."

She slammed the door behind her hard enough to make the entire frame rattle. He let out a long breath, disappointment settling into his chest. _Shit_. He just _had_ to run his goddamn mouth. Cass was a smart girl; he thought she was already on board with the synth theory. He never would've guessed she still had plans to make it back to 2017 or whenever the hell she thought she was from.

 _Doesn't mean you had to crush her hopes like that, you ass._ He shook his head and reflexively popped a couple Mentats into his mouth. It was a little surprising how much her reaction bothered him. He shouldn't have been so blunt, even if she needed to hear the truth. He really was a fucking bastard.


	19. Chapter 19

**(Cass)**

" _It's a fairy tale, doll. It ain't real. It never was."_

"FUCK. YOU!" I snarled, kicking a hole through some wooden boxes stacked in the fortress hallway. Some minuteman I didn't recognize had been relaxing on a cot down towards the other end; when he heard me he (wisely) got up and slipped out. I didn't care.

I was so livid that it was shocking I hadn't cracked Hancock right across the face. I certainly wanted to. It was taking all of my self-control not to march back into that room and tear him a new asshole.

I could hear his words circling around in my head like a shitty remix track. What the fuck did he know? He didn't have the first _clue_ about my life. None whatsoever. In fact, HE was the fucking fairy tale! Him and this entire never-ending nightmare that I couldn't seem to wake up from. I pictured telling him the truth, that he was nothing more than a character written for entertainment; I imagined vomiting out details about his life and this world like fucking acid until he was left in the same existential hell I was. At that moment, the image filled me with a searing, savage pleasure. Let him call me crazy then.

I wasn't paying much mind to where I was going, and somehow I had ended up on the top of the fortress walls. I sat down behind one of the artillery cannons, about as private a space as I could find without going to the sublevels, head bowed to my knees and fingers knotted tightly in my hair. I could feel sobs starting to hiccup their way out of my chest, and it only made me madder. I wanted to rage and break things and scream; it made me furious that I was crying instead.

Hancock had no fucking business telling me that my memories weren't real. I had trusted him with this… had trusted that at least if he didn't (couldn't) know about my _true_ origins, that he'd at least have the open-mindedness to know I wasn't senseless, or stupid. I had talked openly with him about believing I was human; had he just been humoring me the entire time?

I was sobbing in earnest now. I bit down on my arm, trying my best to muffle the cries with the fabric of my shirt and praying that I wasn't being loud enough for anyone to overhear. For the first time, the sense of being utterly alone sank into me.

In under a month, I had been ripped from my home, from every single thing I had ever known; I had been physically attacked multiple times, nearly been abducted; I'd been forced to kill other living beings for my own survival, and had to live a constant lie just to stay alive. No one could understand what I'd lost. Not even Nick or Nate… they at least had vestiges of their old world around them, memories of what was once real. I had nothing. It was agonizing, and I had no way to fix it.

I cried myself out for a while, curled in a tiny pathetic ball and pissed as hell about it, but unable to really stop. Mercifully, no one came around; I don't know that I would've survived the embarrassment if anyone found me like that. I hadn't cried that hard in years... probably not since my mom died. I wondered what she'd have said if she saw the mess I'd gotten myself into now. It was a bit of a shock to realize I didn't really know anymore.

In time the sobs became weeping, and the weeping turned to hiccups. I couldn't tell exactly how long I'd been up there. And even after I wrested control back from my emotions, I was in no particular hurry to move. That was another thing that sucked about being in the wasteland; I couldn't just drive off to go be a hermit in my apartment until I cooled down enough to deal with the problem (or not). Nope, as soon as I went back down those stairs, I had to figure out how I was going to handle this latest serving of bullshit.

"I shouldn't have slept with him," I muttered to myself. "I fucking know better. Not like I needed _another_ mess to dig out of."

"Cass?" I twitched when I heard Piper's voice; her face appeared around the opposite side of the artillery. "I thought I heard your voice. Is that where you've been all day?"

 _Great timing, chick. How long has she been there?_

"Part of it." I winced as my voice cracked and cleared my throat. "Just needed a break from everything, I guess."

"You doing okay?"

Yep, she definitely heard me crying. _Fuck my life._ "Yeah, couldn't be better. I'm great."

Piper raised an eyebrow, tapping a pen against her thigh. "Really? Cuz you look like I would if someone busted my printing press."

"… Murderous?"

She chuckled. "Okay, fair enough." She sat down next to me, stretching her legs out with a little sigh. "Sorry if I'm intruding. I came up here to find a place to write. Kind of hard to concentrate with everyone running around down there."

"Don't sweat it." I ran my fingers through my now-ruined braid, combing out my hair. "That article doesn't happen to be about me, does it?"

She gave me a sly look. "Maybe." I groaned, and she laughed. "Come on, I've got to give my readers _something_ to talk about now that the Institute's gone."

"My god you people must be starved for entertainment. Why not consider giving fiction a try? Nowadays you'd be a literary trailblazer no matter what kind of story you wrote." A low thrumming in the distance brought my eyes up to the horizon. "Or… how about that?"

Piper followed my gaze and frowned. "Vertibirds? Could be Paladin Danse." She snorted. "Not very interesting as a far as article subjects go."

I rolled my eyes. "Great. An authoritarian soldier type throwing his dick around is just what I need."

I got to my feet, watching the two aircrafts approach. Something was making the hair on the back of my neck prickle. Maybe it was the wasteland finally starting to make me paranoid. Looking around, I could see a few other people had stopped what they were doing to watch as well… there was confusion all around. This wasn't an expected visit.

Also, why would Danse need to bring two vertibirds just to talk with Nate?

"This doesn't feel right," I said, backing away a couple steps as the aircrafts got closer; they were within about four hundred yards of the Castle now. "Maybe we should give Nate a heads up…"

As I spoke, a missile launched from one of the crafts.

I watched it whistle through the air in what felt like slow motion. But when it collided with the northeastern corner, taking out the two turrets positioned there, time snapped back into place like a rubber band. Chaos was immediate.

The explosion vibrated through the entire wall. Piper and I scrambled behind the artillery cannon as shouts erupted from every corner of the Castle; both vertibirds swung wide to allow their gunners to fire up their miniguns. A siren started to blare from the radio speakers. When I looked down into the courtyard I could see everyone running, some to fight, some for cover.

"The BoS is attacking us?!" Piper yelled; between the vertibirds' miniguns and the siren, she was nearly drowned out. "What are they thinking?!"

"I'd ask the same of your boys!" I shouted back, indicating Nate and all the other minutemen. Those that had longer-range guns were picking at the vertibirds in between bursts of machine gun fire. I caught a glimpse of Hancock and Nate running out of the armory to the same corner where the turrets were destroyed… Nate had dragged out a high-powered rifle, and Hancock had a box of what I could only assume were grenades. "You guys don't have anything bigger?"

"Artillery doesn't work great against close-range moving targets, Cass!"

"They've got a fucking armory! You're telling me they have one box of frags and jackshit else down there?!"

We dropped to the floor as another explosion made everything tremble. One of the vertibirds had launched another missile when it swung around to avoid taking fire; they managed to take out another turret in the process. Smart move on their part.

"There's an old Fat Man down there, but no one's used it yet," Piper replied, speaking quickly as she crouched beside me. "No one's sure if it works… it's not like you can safely test it. And Nate said to save the mininuke shell for emergencies."

I covered my ears as the sound of high-velocity bullets rattled in my brain. "I THINK THIS COUNTS AS AN EMERGENCY, PIPER! Come on!"

I grabbed her hand, and when the next lull in machine gun fire came, I sprinted for the stairs. I didn't bother waiting to run across the courtyard. I flew across that too, still dragging Piper as adrenaline turned me into an Olympics-grade sprinter.

" _Look out_!"

One of the vertibirds had risen high enough to see over the wall, and—as the only two idiots running across open ground—we made easy targets. Piper pulled me sharply to the side as another missile swerved into the ground; we skidded into the dirt as earth erupted around us.

I think I screamed at her to keep going. I felt my mouth and throat work anyway, but all sound was momentarily lost in a high-pitched whine. As we ran I could see Nate taking advantage of the pilot's distraction to nail the front of the nearest vertibird, shattering the glass on the forward windows. We reached the armory doors in one piece and darted inside, gasping for breath.

"Silly me, thinking I was going to be done with near-death experiences for a while," Piper remarked, once she got her breath back.

A quick, almost hysterical laugh escaped me. "If you want a quiet life, you're really gonna need some new friends." I straightened from having my hands on my knees and wiped my brow. "But if we survive this, at least you'll have something to write about."

I found the Fat Man launcher easily; it was kind of hard to miss. The thing was _literally_ the size of a small child. It almost dropped out of my hands when I dragged it off the shelf; it was heavier than it looked, which is kind of saying something as it does not look light to begin with.

"Any idea how this works?" I asked, flinching as the sounds of battle filtered in through the concrete.

Piper studied it for a second. "I think you just slide the shell into the barrel, and squeeze the trigger. Should be pretty easy."

"Gonna have to do." I tried hefting it, and while I could lift it, I didn't think I had enough upper-body strength to balance it on my shoulder. "I don't think I can fire this on my own, though."

Piper looked pale, but she nodded determinedly. "Well, we can't let the boys have all the fun, right?"

The room quaked again, stronger than before. We both ducked down like the roof was going to collapse in on us; that explosion must've been pretty big.

I jerked my head towards the door. "Come on, we don't have a lot of time!"

The Fat Man made running difficult, but we managed. Once we got outside I noticed that only one vertibird was still up in the air; there was a big plume of smoke curling upwards near the water. The guys had managed to down one of them, then. That explained the larger explosion.

We reached the stairs nearest to the armory and clambered up; Nate and Hancock were crouched inside, taking shelter from the hailstorm of bullets that the remaining aircraft was throwing in their direction.

"What are you two doing?" Nate demanded. One of his sleeves and a pant leg were bloody; from the way he stood it looked like he may have taken a shot to the calf or thigh. Piper blanched at the sight, instantly worried.

"Blue, are you-"

"Out of the way," I grunted at the two of them, as I dragged the mini-nuke launcher up the rest of the stairs. "Focus, Piper. He's got stimpaks, he's fine."

"Now you're talkin'," Hancock said approvingly, dark eyes lighting up at the sight of the launcher. "See Nate, told ya we should've-"

He was cut off as a missile hit just outside the exit, spraying us all with dirt and threatening to collapse the entire stairwell. We needed to wrap this up; I _really_ didn't want to end up crushed or scattered across the courtyard.

"A little help, Piper?" I asked, as I swung the launcher up onto my shoulder.

Nate shook his head, hands pressed against his still-bleeding leg. "No way, Cass; that's too dangerous! We haven't test-fired that yet!"

"No time like the present!" I hopped forward a little out of his reach as he tried to snatch the Fat Man away. Piper wormed her way in front and steadied the barrel.

"If that misfires-"

"Then it's not our problem anymore!"

"She's got a point, Vaultie," Hancock added. I rolled my eyes, not caring if he saw. _Sure, play nice now that I've got a fucking mininuke launcher._

Piper and I made it to the top of the stairs before Nate could object further. The vertibird was realigning itself to slam us with more machine gun fire; we only had a couple seconds to make this work.

A couple seconds, one shot, one shell, or we were all probably dead. Just another day in the wasteland.

I sighted down the barrel and stopped Piper as soon as it looked like we were on target.

Nate grabbed my shoulder. "Cass, don't-!"

 _Too late._ "Yippie-ki-yay motherfucker!"

For about a millisecond my heart was in my throat as I wondered whether the shell would launch, or simply explode in the barrel (and take us with it). But then I heard the click of the lock disengaging and the football-sized nuke jettisoned out into the air.

Our aim was just a little wide; instead of hitting the vertibird head-on like I'd wanted, the mininuke clipped one of the side engines. That was enough, though. We all stumbled back onto our knees as the shell exploded in a Hollywood-quality plume of fire and smoke. I saw it for a brief instant before remembering to shield my eyes with my arm. A second later there was another smaller explosion as the aircraft's fuel tanks gave up the ghost, and then a final crash as it dropped nose-first into dirt a couple hundred yards away from the wall we were standing on.

It was a few seconds before any of us moved. Everything had gone silent, though my ears were ringing loudly enough to be deafening. I finally dropped the launcher when the weight began to bite into my shoulder and cautiously popped out to the top of the wall, peering down at the two smoldering aircrafts.

"HA!" I crowed, once it sank in that the fight was over. "We did it!" I turned back to Piper and laughed when she hugged me, relief written all over her face. "I told you it would work!"

"And I thought Blue was crazy!" She beamed at Nate as he and Hancock joined us. "Looks like you might have some competition!"

Nate shook his head in disbelief. "That was… you two just saved the Castle."

Hancock chuckled. "I never thought I'd say it, Pipes, but I think you made me fall in love for a second there."

Piper wrinkled her nose at him. "Save the flattery, Hancock. Anyway, it wasn't my idea; it was Cass's."

"That was a big risk, Cass," Nate said to me, looking somewhere in between admiration and exasperation. "If that firing mechanism had locked up…"

I shrugged. "Sometimes playing conservative doesn't cut it. Blow shit up every once in a while, man." I grinned. "Besides, I've always _really_ wanted to use one of those."

Hancock looked over the edge at the still-burning crafts. "Pretty quick thinkin', sister."

"For a crazy chick?" I clipped back in response. "Yeah, I guess so."

He turned back to look at me, but I was already headed back down the stairs. Just because we had both survived the same near-death experience didn't mean that all was forgiven. I was still heated (though exploding something _had_ helped just a teensy bit, I'll admit).

"Come on!" I shouted back to the three of them. "Let's go figure out who was stupid enough to attack the Castle."


	20. Chapter 20

***LONG wait for an update, I know! I apologize. Like I've said before, Writer's Block is a cruel bitch... and there may be the distractions of a few new video game releases sucking some extra time away in my life too lol.**

 **To make up for it, here's a two-chapter update... and one of them is an extra-long chapter to boot!**

 **Thanks for all your patience everyone, and as always thanks for all the love! 3***

* * *

 **(Cass)**

For the second time that day, I found myself in Nate's quarters. Only this time _everyone_ was there, all crowded around the table where I'd chatted with Nick about the impossibilities of my existence. They were all debating who'd been behind the attack. So far, the room was about 50/50: Hancock and Mac were convinced it was the Brotherhood, but Nick, Piper, and Nate didn't agree. I was on the fence… though it wasn't like my opinion would hold a lot of weight.

We had all gone out to glean what we could from the wreckage after the fires died down. The first vertibird wasn't too bad off… it was unusable, of course, but there were still bodies for us to search. They were wearing BoS jumpsuits and one of them had dogtags on them. The second one was pretty much a hunk of scrap metal; the charred remains of the gunner and the pilot there didn't reveal much. _Whoops._ The evidence all seemed to point to a Brotherhood attack, but I had to agree that something felt off. I just couldn't put my finger on what.

I fidgeted as I listened to the others talk, restless. My nerves were still buzzing from the adrenaline high of blowing everything to hell. At least my hearing had recovered, though. My ears had rung for a half hour straight after that mininuke explosion.

"I mean, it's gotta be the Brotherhood, right?" MacCready asked. I hadn't seen him during the fight, but I imagined he'd been up in some sniper hidey-hole somewhere, picking at our attackers from a distance. "Who else is gonna come at us with vertibirds? And they were wearing the uniforms. It's not like they just hand those out."

Nick shook his head, troubled. "The motivation doesn't make sense. What reason do they have to attack the minutemen? We've been allies up until this point. Uneasy allies, maybe, but allies nevertheless."

"You weren't there when we ran into them outside of Jamaica, Nicky," Hancock countered. "They were out huntin' for synths. Nate warned 'em to back off… I'm bettin' they took that as a challenge. I would."

"That'd mean a war with nearly the entire Commonwealth," Piper said, wide-eyed.

I shrugged. "Or just Nate."

MacCready shook his head. "Nate's the general of the minutemen. A fight with him is a fight with everybody, right?"

"Not necessarily." I met Nate's eyes; stern lines pulled at his face, making him seem older. "The Brotherhood came here to confront the Institute, yeah? So you were useful while you two had a common enemy to keep you united. But now the Institute's gone, and you're siding with the other two groups on their shit list." I could see his frown deepen as he anticipated what I was going to say next. "With you out of the picture, how long would it take to undo all the work you've done? How many people would be willing to stand up to the Brotherhood to protect ghouls and synths?"

"Not a lot," Hancock said. My eyes flickered towards him for the barest instant. I was sharply aware of his presence and doing my best to pretend that wasn't the case. It wasn't going that well, but I hadn't bitten off his head yet, so yay me.

Nate shook his head. "A good point, but something still doesn't feel right. A Brotherhood attack would have been far better planned out, and bigger. They wouldn't have come at us with four soldiers piloting two vertibirds. Maxson isn't foolish enough to underestimate us by that much."

"You think someone's trying to frame them?" Piper asked thoughtfully. I could practically see the words writing themselves in her head. A conspiracy to pit the minutemen and the BoS against each other would sell out her newspaper for weeks.

Nate exhaled in a huff, frustrated. "Maybe. But then we still don't know who we're dealing with." He rubbed a hand over his face, smearing a little of the dirt there. "Who would benefit from getting the Brotherhood and the minutemen to attack each other?"

None of us had an answer to that one, which was just as well. A man I didn't quite recognize burst into the room at that moment. It was sudden enough that all of us, myself included, started to reach for our guns before realizing there was no threat. I think it was safe to say that we were all still a _little_ on edge.

"What is it?" Nate had half-risen out of his chair.

"We just got a call over the radio," the minuteman said, out of breath like he'd been running. "One of the caravans of newcomers heading up north got hit. The folks at the Slog sent out a search party when they didn't arrive when they were supposed to, found their wagon beat all to hell."

I felt my proverbial ears prick up at the mention of the Slog. Were Wiseman and the others in danger? I took a breath to ask, but Nate got there first.

He swore. "Did they find anyone?"

"Couple of bodies. Everyone else was gone."

 _Bodies? Whose bodies?_

"Any tracks?"

"Not really. Whoever hit them looks to have stayed on the asphalt as much as possible… they didn't want to be followed." The minuteman swept off his hat and ran a hand over his short-cropped hair. "No sign of the newcomers. Right now it looks like they may have been taken."

That was certainly ominous. "Newcomers… am I right to assume those are synths?" I asked.

Nick nodded. "Deacon and his crew thought it'd be safest to avoid mentioning synths directly over the radio."

"The Railroad loves their secret code words, even without the Institute around," Piper added.

Nate dropped into a chair, rubbing his eyes. He looked wiped out. It struck me how much weight was on his shoulders. The guy was just around my age, maybe a couple years older, and everyone was looking to him to both deal with this maybe-BoS attack and now a mass kidnapping on top of that. How did he deal? I would've folded like a stack of cards under that pressure.

The observation wormed a shard of guilt up under my ribcage. Was I responsible for that? Had the decisions I'd made while playing him landed him in this spot, or would it have happened regardless? It was a prickly train of thought. I pushed it aside for now, doing my best to focus on the present moment.

"This can't be a coincidence," Nate said grimly. "Whether the BoS is behind these attacks or not, we need to make sure the rest of our people are covered. Someone should head out to Sunshine Co-Op-"

"I'll do it," MacCready volunteered. "Sanctuary isn't far away from there, and I should be getting back to Duncan. I can tag along on the next caravan headed out that way, make sure they're ready in case any sh… stuff goes down."

"Good. If you can, try to convince any synths who are staying there to relocate with you to Sanctuary. Preston can keep everyone in the vault until this blows over." Nate pinched the bridge of his nose, thinking. "I'll stay here… I'll need to get in touch with Deacon and the others, and I want to meet with Danse too if I can."

"You really gonna trust that rusted-out cram tin?" Hancock asked doubtfully. "Seems to me he'd be quicker to start humpin' his master's leg than to fraternize with the enemy."

"Thanks for that image," Piper quipped with a roll of her eyes. "You heard Blue; there's no telling for certain that the Brotherhood's really behind this."

"Danse owes me his life a couple times over now," Nate said firmly. "That ought to at least earn me the right to a conversation. If Maxson really does want to come against the minutemen, I'd rather know up front than walk blindly into his crosshairs." He paused. "And even if Danse lies to me, then that's still more information than we had before."

"Your funeral, Vaultie," Hancock replied with a shake of his head.

"I've made it this far," Nate remarked humorlessly. Then he added, "Do you think you and Nick could go check on the Slog for me? Not many people know the streets of Boston as well as you do; if we need to move anyone you're our best bet at doing that safely. And it could be that Nick might find something to help us figure out where they took those synths… we need to get them back safely, if we can."

"Flattery'll get ya everywhere." Hancock gave him a quick, reassuring grin. "No problem. Be happy to help out."

"I'm going too," I volunteered suddenly.

The words had come out of my mouth without thinking. But once I'd said them, I knew I didn't want to back down. I felt all of their eyes on me and wished that I could keep myself from blushing. Hancock in particular looked surprised… but of course he did. _Easy boy, this isn't about you._

Nate's brow drew down. "Cass, you were a big help in that last fight, but-"

"If you're going to say something about how it's too dangerous, or that I don't need to, don't bother," I said, cutting him off. "It's no more dangerous than dealing with my own bullshit. This has to take precedence over everything else, so my options are either to help out, try to figure things out on my own, or sit on my ass." I crossed my arms. "Wiseman and the others are friends of mine. I owe them, so if I have a chance to pay back their kindness, then that's what I'm gonna do."

"Wouldn't hurt to have an extra set of eyes along," Nick offered supportively. "Or an extra gun."

Nate's frown deepened. "If someone's really after synths-"

" _If_ I'm actually a synth, then that makes the people who were kidnapped _my_ people. And even if I'm not, then they're still people that need help, right?" I arched an eyebrow at him. "Nate, short of breaking my ankles or chaining me to a wall, you can't stop me. I want to help."

Piper's lips tugged up. "A girl after my own heart." She gave Nate's shoulder an affectionate shake. "I'd listen to her, Blue, or she might throw a mininuke at you next."

Nate finally exhaled in a long sigh. "…Fair enough."

"We'd be glad to have you along, kid," Nick told me kindly, clasping my shoulder with his good hand. "Isn't that right, John?"

Hancock started like Nick had prodded him. Our eyes met for about half a second.

"Yeah, sure," he replied after a beat. "Why not?"

I stifled a sigh. It was going to end up being a fucking long walk.

* * *

 **(Nick)**

Nick stood up on the far corner of the Castle's wall, gazing out at the moon's choppy reflection in the water. They'd be heading up north again in a couple hours. He had nothing but spare time while he waited for the others to catch some shut-eye. Ordinarily he'd help out with guard duty or look over notes for other active cases; some nights he'd even reminisce about Jen, though he tried to avoid that when he could. Tonight, it seemed he could do nothing but worry.

He had hoped that once the Institute was out of the picture, synths could enjoy some degree of safety. It would be years before everyone grew comfortable enough to fully accept them; folks had long memories. A lot of them were still scared by the idea of synth replacement even if it was no longer a threat. But with the looming fear of slavery or death by courser out of the picture, at least there were fewer obstacles to the poor souls trying to build their own lives.

Now, it looked like they had just traded one set of problems for another. The BoS could have left the Commonwealth after the Institute was blown sky-high, but instead they chose to stay and put the synths in their sights. There was no doubt it'd mean a fight. Maxson's xenophobic zealotry could make him just as dangerous as the scientists he came to destroy, if not more so. And with another mystery party out abducting synths from safehouse settlements…

The sound of footsteps interrupted his train of thought. He tilted his head to the left and spotted Cass walking in his direction. She ought to have been asleep a while ago. They had a long walk ahead of them; she needed the rest a hell of a lot more than either he or John did.

"Come here often?" she joked lightly when she got close enough to speak. She pulled her jacket close around her, shielding herself from the cold nip in the air. The sleeves hid the impressive amount of artwork she had spilling down her arms. Used to be in his day (or rather, the _original_ Nick's day), that only military and gang members got tatted up. Cass was about as far from a soldier as one could get, and she didn't have a chip large enough to strike him as the gang type. It made him wonder what her story was.

"Awful late to be up still, don't you think?" he asked, not unkindly.

She raised an eyebrow. "Didn't realize I had a curfew, _Dad_." Her smile cut the edge out of the jibe. "I tried falling asleep for the last hour or so, but my brain's being an asshole. Too much anxiety, I guess."

"About heading out with John and me?"

She twitched like he'd shocked her. "What? No. Why would I be nervous about that?"

"Remind me to play poker with you sometime." She gave him a look, and he shrugged one shoulder. "I don't know what conversation you two had after our chat yesterday, but it's like someone put a deep freeze between the two of you. Sleeping together go that badly?"

"Dude!" She crossed her arms, a little frown creasing her brow. "Good thing I'm not modest or anything. Geez."

He didn't respond, waiting silently. It was a trick he learned after years of detective work. Most people wanted to talk about their problems, even if they acted like they didn't. All they needed was an opening. You rarely had to browbeat anyone into answering you if you could master the art of patience.

And he was right: after a few more moments she sighed. She hugged her arms more tightly around herself and turned so that she stood beside him, facing out towards the water like he did.

"The sex wasn't the problem," she said at length. "I mean, it was a mistake—I broke a rule—but it's not like I haven't survived my share of ill-advised one-night-stands. The fact that he's a fucking _liar_ is the problem."

Her posture stiffened as she spoke, the words coming out hard like stones striking glass. Whatever he'd told her had stung.

Nick frowned. "John's got his share of flaws, but dishonesty usually isn't one of them."

"Part of it is my own stupid fault," she explained, making a face at her feet. "I didn't set out to get him or Nate or anyone else involved in my problems. But he started pressing me for answers after a few Gunners tried to shanghai me out of the Rexford…" She sighed. "He made it seem like he believed me. Or at the very least, he didn't outright dismiss me. And I wanted to not be alone bad enough to go along with it."

 _Ah._ He was beginning to put together a better picture now. Cass's story was outlandish, there was no doubt about that. It was hard to doubt that she was a synth with artificially implanted memories. But she made a fair point when she questioned why anyone would go to the trouble of writing such detailed memories from a completely different world; she knew dates, people, songs, technology that had never existed in the pre-war era. It was enough to keep him from jumping wholly to conclusions, so it wasn't a stretch to see how John had been willing to go along with her tale.

"You feel like he manipulated you."

Cass shifted on her feet. "Not exactly. It's just… I wanna go home, Nick. And he made me feel like a half-witted idiot for clinging to the hope that I can make that happen somehow." She gave a quick cough, clearing her throat. "Even if I _am_ an idiot for believing in that… he still should have kept his mouth shut."

Nick hummed. "I see. Tough situation to be in, I'll give you that." He gave her a sidelong glance. "I take it you're talking about getting back to the time you remember?"

She dipped her head forward, using her hair to hide her face from him. "You gonna tell me I'm crazy too?"

"It's not crazy to want to go home, kid. I spent more years than I can count praying for the same thing… hoping that one day I'd wake up, and this wasteland, this metal body, would all be nothing but a bad dream."

"How did you deal? How _do_ you deal?"

"Not well, at first. But then a day passed, and then another, and another. Eventually I found something to give myself a purpose again." He tapped the brim of his fedora illustratively. "You find something new to focus on, give yourself a reason to care outside of your own situation. The rest will follow from there, if you're lucky."

Cass gave a halfhearted laugh. "Guess it's too bad that I'm all good for is sarcasm and slinging drinks."

"I wouldn't be so hard on myself if I were you, kid." He took a drag off his cigarette, and smoke drifted out from his lips and the worn holes in his neck and cheek. "You willing to take a bit of advice from an old synth?"

She blinked up at him, eyes wary in the light of the moon. "Maybe."

"Do you care about him?"

Her mouth dropped open. She hurriedly shook her head, cheeks darkening in the dim light. "What?!"

"It's a pretty easy question, I thought."

"Yeah, and pretty out of left field! Are you seriously asking if I'm in love with Hancock?"

Interesting that she jumped straight to _love_ out of that. Not that he thought she was in love with his friend… there was nothing about her that was doe-eyed, or wistful, or longing. But it was an intriguing reaction nonetheless.

He finished his cigarette and put his hands in his pockets, fixing a neutral expression onto his face. "Didn't say anything about love, kid. Correct me if I'm wrong, but you two got along alright until this morning… maybe even a bit more than alright, since you decided to spend the night together." She ducked her head a bit, and he shrugged. "Seems to me if there were really nothing there, that wouldn't have happened. Or maybe I'm just old-fashioned."

She bit her lip. "I… I don't know." He raised his brows at her, and she threw up her hands. "Okay, yes. Up until this morning, I considered us friends. But just because we slept together doesn't mean I'm head over heels for the guy." Her eyes narrowed. "If this is gonna end up being a lecture on promiscuity, I swear to god…"

"If that's true, then cut John a little slack," he told her. "He likes you, kid, or he wouldn't have gone to the trouble of bringing you out here." She opened her mouth to argue, and he put up a hand to stop her. "I've known John a long time. He's not perfect by any stretch of the imagination, but he's a good friend to have. My guess? He was trying to help, in his own misguided way."

"By telling me my entire life up to this point has been a fairy tale?"

He winced. That did seem a bit harsh, but then John was never much for policing what came out of his mouth. Maybe he'd had a chance to talk a little sense into him over the next couple days.

"I'm not saying you can't be mad at him; just don't stay mad forever." Nick set his good hand comfortingly on her shoulder. "Real friends are tough to come by in the wasteland; best not to let misunderstandings push them away."

She pursed her lips, fingers tapping against her arm. "... I'll think about it. I still feel like I want to take my bat to his thick skull."

Nick chuckled. "Then just give me a warning before you do so I can get out of the way."

Cass smiled then, really smiled. He could see why John might've taken an interest in her… aside from the smart-mouthed sense of humor. Her smile gave a new warmth to her whole face; it made you want to laugh along with her.

"You're a pretty good guy, Nick." She bumped her hip lightly against his. "Everyone says so, of course, but… thanks for the talk. It helped."

"Anytime."

A yawn escaped her then. She stretched her arms skyward, making a small noise of relief as her joints popped.

"Guess that's a sign I should finally hit the hay." She gave him another sleepy smile and briefly squeezed his forearm before turning away. "Thanks again. I'll see you in the morning." She started to walk off, but paused before she had taken more than a couple steps. "… Hey, Nick?"

"Hmmm?"

"Could you… do me a favor, and not mention this to Hancock?" Even in the darkness, he was fairly certain she was blushing. "I know I gotta deal with this—with him—or these next few days are going to be a nightmare. But I need to do it on my own terms… otherwise I'm just gonna fuck everything up."

He nodded. "Consider this detective-client confidentiality. I won't say a word."

"Thanks again, Nick. I owe you one."

* * *

 ***This was my first time actually writing from Nick's POV, so hopefully I did a good job. n_n***


	21. Chapter 21

**(Hancock)**

 _Gonna have to stop doin' people favors_ , Hancock grumbled to himself. There was tension singing all the way from the base of his skull down to the small of his back, and it wasn't because they were in any danger. It was because of her.

Cass being pissed at him jabbed under his skin like a splinter. It was distracting, and it rankled him that he felt as guilty as he did. He hadn't told her anything but the truth… well, okay. Maybe he hadn't so much _told_ her as flung it in her face. Maybe he should've just kept his damn mouth shut, like Nick kept saying.

The two of them had a decent thing going before he made an ass of himself. Cass made a good friend: quick-witted, funny, easy on the eyes. The fact that she was up for some mutual physical activity without the added baggage of a relationship seemed almost too good to be true. It was rare to find a woman who didn't want commitment up front, unless you were paying her.

Then he'd gone and fucked that all to hell. No pun intended.

He couldn't think of a good, clean way to fix the situation, so when Nate had asked him to check in on the Slog, he'd jumped at the task. He figured it'd put a little distance between the two of them; there was no sense in sticking around to fuck things up further. From the way she had been acting, he was certain Cass would agree. He'd go up to the Slog and then back to Goodneighbor, and she'd either stick around the Castle or tag along with someone else… and either they'd meet up again, or they wouldn't. No hard feelings on his part if she got over it. If she didn't… well, she'd only been around for a couple of weeks. Wasn't exactly a whole lot of time to grieve over.

But then she'd volunteered—no, _insisted_ —to tag along with him and Nick. His entire plan backfired as quickly as it had formed. He couldn't shoot her down or back out without making a complete ass of himself, so he was stuck.

It was about to be the longest goddamn walk of his entire fucking life.

The only saving grace in the situation was Nick. The old synth had been monopolizing Cass's attention for the better part of the day… intentionally, no doubt. It didn't take a genius to sense the discomfort in the air, and Nick made a living out of reading people. Hancock was more than happy to let him do it. Sure, they might run out of topics eventually, but for now it kept the focus off him.

"So let me get this straight," Nick said, brow furrowed in thought. "You say that in your time, people can access any information they want? Just like that?"

Cass nodded and kept pace with him so that they walked side-by-side. "Yep. For most people in first-world countries, at least. That's what you get when you focus on information technology instead of robotics and nuclear physics."

Hancock trailed a couple steps behind, smoking a cigarette and trying to seem disinterested. It was hard, though… Cass was explaining something called the "internet," and while the mechanics of it escaped him, the theory behind it was intriguing. He doubted that even the Institute had been able to create a computer that gave you the answer to anything you wanted. The ability to learn anything with a few simple clicks would be a powerful tool.

"Doesn't seem very secure," Nick remarked doubtfully. "From a law enforcement perspective, at any rate. How would you prevent people from doing harm with that sort of thing?"

Cass shrugged. "You don't, not really, but that's the trade-off. Government sites and stuff are still pretty secure, but in general you have to trust that whatever website or company you're giving your information to is going to abide by the law and not screw you over." She smiled a little. "You're generally okay so long as you're mindful of what you're doing. Most people use the internet for just a few things, anyway: socializing, entertainment, shopping… free porn."

Hancock snorted; he couldn't help it. Even Nick faltered in his stride for a moment. Cass's grin broadened as the old synth struggled to find something to say.

"Glad to hear your generation was using powerful technology so responsibly," he finally stated, which made her laugh outright.

"Hey, at least my generation didn't blow up the entire world. Not yet, anyway."

Nick tipped his hat to her. "Fair point, that."

Thunder rumbled up ahead in the distance. Hancock had been watching the dark clouds gather on the horizon for a while; he'd hoped that a storm wouldn't start in earnest, but apparently his luck was going to be nothing but shit for a while. There was a familiar yellowy tint to the clouds too, which meant it would be a radstorm. He could almost feel the radiation blowing their way on the wind. If it had been just him and Nick, that wouldn't be a problem, but with Cass…

"Hate to interrupt, but we might wanna think of cuttin' the hike short for today," he said. "Unless one of you two has a hazmat suit I don't know about."

"I was just thinking the same thing," Nick agreed. "Storm's really building up, isn't it?"

Cass crossed her arms. "We don't need to stop on my account. I can just pop a couple of Rad-X and be fine, right?"

"It ain't a good idea for smoothskins to walk through a radstorm unprotected, even if you're loaded up on anti-rad chems," Hancock told her matter-of-factly. "Even if you don't get hit with the more dramatic side effects, you'd probably still end up losin' hair and pukin' your guts out before we got through."

She gave him a sour look. "Thanks for the optimism there."

"It's not-"

"Looks like it might bring rain, too," Nick interrupted quickly, stepping in between the two of them. "I don't know about you, but I'd rather not get these old gears wet. The last thing this body needs is rust."

Good old Nick, to the rescue yet again.

Cass's breath came out in a long, controlled sigh. "Okay. I guess a few hours isn't going to make _that_ much of a difference. Lead the way."

* * *

The storm had been about an hour away, but it took them another half hour of walking to find any place suitable enough to spend the rest of the night. They reached an old neighborhood not far from Jamaica Plain… similar to where they'd encountered the supermutants, but on the other side of the settlement. There was an old two-story that still had its windows and doors mostly intact. The walls would keep out the weather and the worst of the radiation, and would help keep them hidden if they started a fire to fight off the nighttime chill. Not that it was likely to be cold with a bunch of rads in the air, but it was still something to consider.

They took care to make as little noise as possible as they approached the house. With any luck, there weren't any unpleasant nightmarish things lurking inside, but you never knew. Hancock had nearly gotten his face chewed off by a couple ferals once because he hadn't been cautious enough going into a building. He rolled that memory over in his mind now, preferring to think about that rather than contemplate the very near future. It would be hours yet before Cass would want to sleep; that meant hours of being locked up in a house with nothing to do but sit in silence or talk.

No other distractions, no other way to stay occupied. Jesus Christ. He wondered how much either of them would bitch if he opted to huff Jet until he passed out.

He was still considering that course of action when Cass stopped suddenly in front of him. He stumbled to a halt, narrowly avoiding a collision.

"What the-"

"Someone's here," Cass said in a hushed voice, gesturing at the room in front of them.

He looked around her shoulder. There were indeed several bedrolls and blankets set up around a fireplace filled with fresh ash. A couple packs sat here and there, and a few tins of mostly-eaten food. No one at home, though.

"Folks don't usually leave their stuff like this," Nick said in a low voice, echoing Hancock's own thoughts. "I don't see any bodies or signs of a fight, which means they're probably planning on coming back."

"Kinda surprised they don't have a lookout," Hancock mused, nudging one of the packs with the toe of his boot. "Big risk leavin' their things here where anyone could take 'em. Not like there's anything real valuable, but still…"

Nick hummed, frowning. "We oughta check around, just in case. Don't want to step on any toes if they're friendlies. And if they're not…"

"They're not."

They both looked over at Cass; she had picked up what looked like a journal, and was staring at the contents like it might bite her.

Hancock stepped over to her. "What'd ya find?"

She held the journal wordlessly out to him. He took it and scanned the page she was on. It took him a moment to decipher the chicken-scratch handwriting, but when he did he could see what she meant. She'd found notes matching her description exactly. Beneath the usual list—dark hair, young, tattoos, piercings, etc.—there were more notes detailing what looked like possible locations. The last one was just a word: "Castle?" with a big question mark, circled a couple of times.

 _Well, shit._

Hancock exhaled slowly and passed the journal over to Nick, who took it in at a glance. Cass had backed up a couple of steps like she was afraid mercs might spring up out of the rumpled blankets. She wasn't looking at either of them.

"More friends of yours?" Nick asked her. She only shook her head. "If they're mercenaries then they're definitely close by… but not professionals, not if they left their camp unguarded like this." He pulled his .44 out of his coat pocket and started to double back towards the stairs. "I'm going to do a sweep upstairs, just in case. You two wait down here and give a holler if you see anything."

He disappeared towards the front of the house. Hancock held his shotgun loosely in his hands and began to poke through the mercs' things, pocketing whatever looked useful. Which is to say, not a lot.

"I was hoping that the Gunners had been some kind of fluke," Cass said. She hadn't moved from her spot, but her pistol had appeared in her hand. "Stupid of me, I guess."

He responded with a noncommittal grunt. He didn't think it was stupid to wish a shitty situation were better—overly optimistic, maybe, but not stupid. But she'd snapped at him for nearly everything that had come out of his mouth so far that day, so he kept his thoughts to himself.

She looked up at him with her brow furrowed. "Shouldn't we bail? I mean, we don't really want to be here when they get back, do we?"

"Not exactly a lotta time left to find a new place to wait out the storm," Hancock replied, and thunder rumbled overhead as if to prove his point. "Wouldn't wanna leave without making sure there wasn't someone around to see ya, either. The longer they think you're holed up somewhere like the Castle, the better."

Cass exhaled in a frustrated sigh. "This is such bullshit. I mean, if I were an assassin or a criminal or something, I'd understand, but-"

The sound of other voices approaching outside made them both freeze. It seemed their timing had been impeccable, as usual. They were about to have company.

* * *

 **(Cass)**

 _Fuck._ Our day just kept getting better and better. The thought of spending a few extra hours cooped up without the distraction of hiking through the Commonwealth was bad enough… now we had a veritable troop of mercenaries about to walk through the front door. I couldn't catch a damn break.

I thought about calling for Nick for half a second, and just as quickly dismissed it. The last thing we needed was for the mercs to hear me shouting. For the moment, they didn't know we were there, and I wanted things to stay that way if they could. I was going to have to trust that the detective could take care of himself.

We only had seconds left before they entered the house, so I did the only thing I could think of. I grabbed Hancock's arm—he was already bringing up his shotgun, and no way were we going to win that firefight—and dragged us down the hallway to our left. I flung open the first door we reached and shoved him inside, then wedged myself in after.

"Cass, what the hell?!" he demanded, as I squished us both into the small space. I had selected a closet, or pantry, of all places. Couldn't have been another room or even a bathroom, even. That seemed pretty in line with how my luck was going lately.

"Can't you count?" I shot back at him. It was hard to sound pissed when I was scared to raise my voice above a whisper, but I managed. "There were at least six people sleeping out there, Hancock. Six _armed_ people."

"So hiding is the better option?"

"You got another idea? One that _isn't_ suicidal?"

He drew breath like he was going to reply, but we could hear the tromp of multiple pairs of boots on hardwood floors at that moment. Whether or not he had a better suggestion, it was moot now. We both fell silent, listening hard, probably both praying that no one decided to go check upstairs.

Outside, I could hear a crash of thunder, followed shortly by the pitter-patter of rainfall. The radstorm had arrived. I could even feel the air change, just a little; it had gotten warmer, like those muggy humid days that come up in California in early autumn. Or maybe that was just the excess body heat… the closet we were in barely had enough room for two people. Definitely not one of the best hiding places I'd ever picked.

"Cut that one a little close, don'tcha think?" one of the mercs was saying as they all filtered into the living room. The walls were thin and none of them were concerned with being quiet, so his voice carried pretty clearly. "If we'd moved camp like you said, we might've been stuck out in the middle of nowhere in this shit."

"Still should've left someone behind to guard everything," came another voice. "We're damn lucky everything's still here."

"Exactly; everything's still here. No one's gonna steal a bunch of cans of cram and some moth-eaten old bedrolls, Jayne. Try to lighten up a little bit."

I felt Hancock shift behind me, and felt his breath against my face as he bent close to my ear. "So what's the plan now, sister?"

He spoke extremely softly, so we wouldn't be overheard, but he made me jump anyway. It was intimate in a way I wasn't prepared for. I was seized by the thought that an outmatched firefight might've been better than this; we were entirely too close. My back was just a hard thought away from his front. In different circumstances, this might've been a much more intriguing situation. But I was still pissed, damn it, and I did not need my body betraying me… especially not with the threat of death just beyond the door.

"I'm working on it," I hissed back at him, turning my head just enough so that I could see him out of the corner of my eye. I nudged his ribs with my elbow. "Do you have to hover over me like that?"

I couldn't quite make out his face in the darkness, but I could hear the grin in his voice when he said, "You're the one who shoved us in a closet, doll."

Okay, fair point, that.

Just a couple yards away, the mercs were still chatting and making sounds like they were settling in for the night. It had to only be twilight at best, though; no way they were going to sleep. Not for a while yet, at least. Thank god they didn't seem interested in checking upstairs… I hadn't heard any movement over our heads, so Nick must've figured out we were lying low.

But like Hancock had asked, what now? I pinched the bridge of my nose and tried to think. The most sensible thing, it seemed, would be to wait until all the mercs fell asleep… and then either sneak out or kill them. It bothered me a bit that I was leaning towards the latter. I didn't like needless violence, but I also _really_ didn't like the idea of walking away from people who would abduct me or hurt me, given the chance. The wasteland would make a practical killer out of me yet if I wasn't careful.

"Something needs to change soon," a third voice lamented as I tried to focus. "Either we need someone to rob or a job to do."

"Could always go track down that one bounty," another replied. "Hell of a lot of caps for one girl."

My muscles locked up for an instant; I couldn't help it. I could even hear Hancock take a slow breath behind me. I felt the slightest brush of his fingers on my arm, but they fell away before he'd even really touched me. A bit of relief wormed its way past my nerves; it would be hard to stay mad at him if he tried comforting me.

The first merc (I think) harrumphed. "If Mick's right about what he heard on the radio, then she's holed up at the Castle. You wanna get wasted by a bunch of do-gooders, you be my guest. They'll blow you away with that artillery before you get within a hundred yards of the place."

"Could go keep an eye on the place, wait for her to leave. She can't stay in there forever, right?"

There was a brief pause. "Suppose we could."

"If anyone's gonna nab her, might as well be us, right?"

"I wonder what she did," a new voice mused. "Must've been pretty bad for that weirdo to offer a thousand caps for her."

Another one of them laughed. "She's probably just a good piece of ass that's run off."

"You'd pay a thousand caps for some tail? Shit, for that much she better have a magic pussy and tits that taste like Sugar Bombs."

 _Oh for fuck's sake_. I fought the urge to groan and pressed my forehead against the door. I could feel Hancock shaking with silent laughter behind me; I drove my heel into his foot, but that only made him laugh harder. _Great. He's not forgetting that anytime soon._

"Will you knock that off?" My whisper had more than a trace of a growl in it. "It's not that goddamned funny, Hancock."

"Whatever you say, Sugar Bombs."

I half-turned to punch in him the shoulder with as much force as I could muster in that small space. He rocked back slightly, and when he did his foot knocked into some random junk on the floor. A bucket and some other shit shifted, clattering just a bit, but it was enough.

"What was that?"

We both froze almost comically still.

"What? You hear something?"

"Maybe…" There was the sound a magazine sliding into a gun. _Shit_.

"So much for avoiding a fight," I breathed, hardly daring to move.

"What're you thinkin'?" Hancock murmured. All of his attention was on the door, or rather who approached from behind it.

I slid my pistol into the flag around his waist. "You're a better shot than I am."

"Wait-"

I traded my bat to my right hand, took a deep breath, and flung open the door. Better to try to take the upper hand right away than wait for them to trap us. Gunshots immediately went off, but all they did was zip harmlessly over my head; I had done a sort of combat-roll out instead of running. I used my momentum to angle myself around the corner into the kitchen as I stood. I thought I'd be in the clear, but a bullet grazed my shoulder just as I rounded the corner.

I screamed; it was like someone pressed a white-hot brand to my skin. At the same time, I heard the rapid _boom-boom_ of Hancock's shotgun going off, along with the eruption of alarmed male voices. I knew he'd be trapped, so I did the most distracting thing I could think of: I grabbed the first object I could find (a plate) and flung it down the hallway like a frisbee. The merc who presumably had shot me was motionless on the ground, but I managed to hit the guy coming behind him. The plate took him square in the dome and shattered.

"Looking for me, assholes?" I shouted, waving merrily with my uninjured arm. "Come and get me!"

I darted away then, running back down another hallway. The first floor was set up in a sort of circle, so that you could reach the front door either by the living room or the kitchen. I didn't have much of a plan other than to keep moving.

I heard the pops of a smaller caliber gun and hoped they were coming from Hancock. I had almost reached the stairs when two of the mercs appeared in front of me. One of them was a big dude—at least 6'5"—and he rammed into me, using my momentum and his size to knock me flat on my ass. He hauled me to my feet by my hair before I could recover and wrapped a thick arm around my neck. His friend had a pistol trained on me.

There was a bang; I flinched horribly, thinking it was him and that I was dead. Blood and bits of brain redecorated the wall beside him. He slumped to the ground, and I could see Nick approaching down the stairs with his .44 in hand.

"You okay, kid?"

I couldn't quite respond with beefy dude putting pressure on my windpipe. I felt him release my hair, probably to reach for a gun. His biggest mistake was that he left my hands free; maybe he thought a woman wouldn't be that much of a threat. Lucky for me, fatal for him.

I pulled my knife out of my belt. I knew I wouldn't be able to hit anything vital, but I didn't need to. I slammed it down into his thigh like I was trying to stab the wall behind him. He howled as the blade sank through the muscle until I felt the grating thud of metal hitting bone. He loosened his chokehold on me just enough, and I did the same instinctual thing that most of us do when we're physically outmatched: I bit him.

I've never bitten anyone hard enough to draw blood before; it took a lot less effort than I'd thought it would. The spill of hot, coppery liquid into my mouth made me recoil. I gagged and spit, and the next thing I knew I was colliding with the stairs.

At the same time, there was a crash that came from the living room. Hancock was either out of ammo, or wasn't bothering to reload; he had literally slammed one of the men headfirst through a window. He jammed his own knife up through the guy's jaw as I watched, twisting it with a snarl and dragging it downwards to that it laid his whole neck open. _Jesus_. No one ran up to stop him, so I assumed that the other two men had fallen by way of my pistol.

Another gunshot close by made my ears ring. With me out of the way, Nick had been clear to put the last merc down. I heard his body hit the ground with a sort of muted _thump_.

That was the last of them. Everything stopped moving way too quickly; I was starting to realize that was always the case after a fight. I stared at the splatters of blood and heavier bits on the wall in a sort of daze. I think my brain was trying to keep me from really seeing it. But then the adrenaline began to fade, and I knew that two men's brains had become the new wallpaper. I could feel the wet blood that had splattered onto my jeans, could still taste it in my mouth.

The last part was what did it for me. I think Nick reached for me, probably to make sure I was okay, but I lurched to my feet like someone had jabbed a pin in my ass. I sprinted down the hallway to the kitchen, and was barely able to make it to the sink before I lost everything that had been in my stomach for the last 24 hours.


	22. Chapter 22

***Another update in less than a month?! It must be a holiday season miracle. xD**

 **Here's another longish chapter for you guys... I think that there might still be *some* polishing I need to do later on, but for right now I'm mostly happy with it.**

 **This will likely be the last update until the new year, so in the meantime happy holidays to you all! 3***

* * *

 **(Cass)**

There's not a hell of a lot that's more embarrassing than tossing your cookies in front of other people. Particularly when those other people appear completely unaffected by the same things that made your stomach reverse itself.

I continued to gag and spit for a couple minutes after my stomach was empty. Every heave made my shoulder, back, and head throb. The pain made the nausea worse, but that was okay; it distracted me from the embarrassment. _Way to be tough there, Cass._

I couldn't understand why I had gotten sick… surely drowning that feral or blasting a mutant hound's face into a red ruin had been more upsetting, right? I'd bounced back pretty okay from all of that, a few bad dreams aside. Maybe I was just reaching my limit. Sensory overload, and all that. A girl can only take so much. Just thinking about all that blood and shards of skull splattering on the…

My stomach clenched again. No, nope, not going there. Time to think of something else, anything else.

I felt a hand press into my uninjured shoulder and twitched. Sometime while I had been tossing my cookies Nick had appeared. I saw him hold a carton of purified water out to me from the corner of my eye.

"You hit the stairs pretty hard there," he said. "Hope that's not a sign of a concussion."

I accepted the water gratefully. It was kind of him to imply that I had puked because I had been tossed onto the stairs like a ragdoll, instead of being too squeamish to stomach the aftermath of the fight. It wasn't true, of course. But it made me feel a bit less like a wimp.

I swished a mouthful of water around and spat it out. "My back took more of that than my head did." I offered him a weak smile. "Thanks, Nick."

Hancock strolled into the kitchen then. My cheeks burned, but if he thought worse of me for getting sick, he didn't show it. His dark eyes landed on mine briefly before sweeping across my shoulder and the splatters of gore on my jeans.

"You're bleedin', doll," he observed, like he was telling me I had a smear of dirt on my face. _Thank you, Captain Obvious. I had no idea._

He cleaned his knife as he spoke, using the tail of his flag sash to polish the merc's blood away. The sight sent a little thrill of fear through me. I'd seen him shoot people, of course; him and just about everyone else I'd met so far. It wasn't necessarily the killing itself that made my gut coil in knots. It was just… there was a whole different level of brutality when the knife was involved. The image of him laying open that merc's neck so effortlessly sent a chill from my head to my toes.

Something must've shown on my face, because he paused and gave me a very careful, guarded look. "Maybe Nick oughta take a look at that."

 _Pull yourself together, Cass._

I shook my head. Yeah, he was scary as fuck with a knife, but he'd killed that merc defending himself. He wasn't about to use it on me, so I squashed any lingering apprehension.

"If one of you wouldn't mind," I replied, as neutrally as I could manage. "Fingers crossed it doesn't need stitches, but it's kinda hard to tell myself without a mirror around."

Hancock's face didn't change, but I saw his shoulders drop, just a little. "Let's get you upstairs, then. Rads are gonna be pourin' in down here now with that window busted. Rain, too."

I didn't notice until he said it, but once he did I could feel the radiation beginning to creep along my skin. Warm, but not in any way that was comforting.

I nodded with a shudder. "Yeah, okay. Let's do that."

"You should count yourself lucky it only grazed you," Nick said as we headed for the stairs. "An inch or two over and we might've been digging a bullet out of you."

"Damn, and that sounds like so much fun, too," I muttered sarcastically.

Both men chuckled. Good to know that I was nothing if not amusing.

I let them lead the way, mostly because I wasn't interested in moving very quick. My back and shoulders felt like one giant bruise. Turns out getting thrown into stairs isn't the best thing for your health.

That being said, I wasn't paying attention to much besides my own injuries until we started up to the second floor. Hancock had been walking pretty normally up to that point, but the stairs made him brace his hand against the wall. He could still climb up the steps, but clearly something hurt.

Nick hesitated, like he was unsure of whether to offer a hand to help out. "You okay there, John?"

"M'fine," Hancock grunted. "Last guy hit me pretty good in the ribs, is all. Didn't have a whole lotta room to maneuver."

There wasn't any heat in his tone but I blushed anyway. That was my fault. If I hadn't been so insistent about trying to avoid a fight, he wouldn't have been backed into a corner. It was honestly a miracle that he had come out as unscathed as he did.

That mistake could've gotten us both killed. It was a severely sobering thought.

Once upstairs, I shrugged out of my flannel shirt so that we could get a better look at my shoulder. Nick poured a little water onto a clean bit of cloth and dabbed at it, cleaning off the drying blood. The sting made me hiss.

"Sorry," he apologized. "If it's any consolation, wounds like this usually feel worse than they are."

"Know that from experience, do you?" I asked. He gave me a bit of a look, and I realized how that must've sounded. "Fuck! No, sorry, I wasn't trying to-"

"It's okay," he said, waving his good hand dismissively.

I grimaced. "No, it's not. I wasn't trying to be snarky; I thought maybe you remembered from the, err, original Nick's day…"

He shook his head. "I know that Nick was on the wrong end of a knife a few times, but was lucky enough to have never been shot. Can't quite recall the sensation, though. Most of human Nick's memories are just so much facts and data."

"Really?" I wanted to ask him more about it, but then he stuck a stimpak in my shoulder. " _Fuck_ me!"

Nick only chuckled. I glanced over at the wound; it was hard to see from the angle, but it looked like I had about a three-inch line torn out of my skin… straight through a traditional spiderweb that covered most of that shoulder. _Of fucking course_. The sight made my throat constrict, but not with pain.

"Damn it, that's gonna scar," I muttered.

Hancock nodded from where he stood, braced against the wall a few feet away. "Yeah, probably."

His nonchalant tone made me want to snap at him. I had to take a deep breath and remind myself that he wouldn't understand why the scar would bother me. I so did not have the energy for another fight. And if I started arguing, there was a good chance I would start crying too. I could feel that tight, emotional knot resting just below my ribcage, just dying for a chance to be let out. I was not about to start bawling in front of either of them, so biting my tongue was my only recourse.

It took about half a stimpak to take care of both me and Hancock; neither of us needed stitches, thank god. They made me crunch on a couple of Rad-X right after. Hancock insinuated that we should probably use a little Rad-Away before we left in the morning just in case; I wasn't thrilled with that prospect. He was probably right, damn him, but it didn't mean I had to be happy about it.

It wasn't totally nightfall by the time we were done, but with the stormclouds blocking out what was left of the sun it might as well have been. With no electricity, the house was almost pitch black. Nick had uncovered a handful of half-burned candles during his search earlier; they flickered now on the few intact surfaces we'd been able to find. It gave just enough light for me to get situated on a dilapidated old couch to try and sleep.

Nick and Hancock had both gone back downstairs after the doctoring was done. Hancock had suggested dragging the bodies outside in case ferals or anything else came tracking the scent of blood and rotting meat during the night; Nick wanted to look more closely through the mercs' things for clues about who employed them. They both could see better in the dark than I could, so I let them go without complaint. I never could fall asleep very easily with other people awake around me, anyway.

I huddled alone in the dark, listening to their quiet movements below and the tapping of rain against the (mercifully intact) roof. Between the stress, unbidden images of heads exploding into viscera, and the general anxiety of being alone in a strange dark place, I was almost certain I'd never fall asleep. But miles of walking and all the adrenaline had taken more out of me than I'd thought. I closed my eyes, and was out long before the guys ever came back upstairs.

* * *

 **(Hancock)**

Hancock didn't dream much as a ghoul. Back before he lost his smooth skin (and a handful of nonessential body parts), he remembered dreaming a lot. Most of it was probably thanks to whatever cocktail of drugs he was on at the time. The chems hadn't changed, but now when he slept it was usually just blackness. Most of the time he didn't regret it; dreams weren't always the best thing when you lived the kind of life he did. Certain things were a lot easier to do when you didn't have to worry about reliving them once your eyes closed.

Tonight was no exception. The events of the day had worn him out more than he'd thought; he could feel sleep dragging at his eyelids before they'd even finished clearing out the bodies. With Nick able to keep an eye on things, Hancock decided he may as well catch a few hours' shut-eye.

Cass was already passed out on an old couch by the time they got back upstairs. If they had been on better terms, he might've opted to share; he could think of worse ways to spend the night than pressed up against all her soft curves. But there was a good chance he might end up stabbed or shot for suggesting it, so in the end he made himself comfortable in a corner a few feet away. He didn't mind sleeping on the floor, not after years spending more nights than not out on the street or in the gutter. Once you've lived shit like that, four walls and a roof were goddamn luxuries.

It didn't take him long to drift off into his usual dreamless nothingness, but it felt like he'd only been asleep for an hour, maybe two, when some kind of noise woke him up. Years of wariness had him alert almost instantly. He blinked his eyes open and reached out for his shotgun at the same time, staring out in the darkness. Nothing moved that he could see, apart from the flickering shadows cast by the dying candlelight, but that didn't mean nothing was there.

He waited silently for one moment, then two, and then… a whimper? The noise was so unexpected that for a second he didn't even recognize what it was.

Then it happened again, and he realized it was coming from Cass. She was still curled up on the old couch, but he could see her twitching fitfully.

"Cass?" He sat up and moved closer, uncertain of whether or not to touch her. "Hey, sister, you awake?"

She only mumbled something incoherent under her breath. She was definitely still asleep… bad dreams, then.

"Hey, doll, wake up."

He nudged her shoulder; she whimpered again but otherwise didn't seem to notice. He shook her gently and she rolled to face him, but her eyes stayed shut. He could just make out the frown scrunching up her face in the darkness. Jesus, she was a heavy sleeper. He'd thought as much when he had slipped out after their fun the other night, but still. God help her if anyone tried to jump her in the middle of the night.

When it became obvious gentler methods wouldn't work, he gave up and shook her. "Cass, you're dreaming! Wake up!"

That did it. She jerked awake with a gasp; a moment later she yelped and he felt a fist connecting with his newly healed ribs.

"Fuck!" He fell back with a grunt, wincing. "Christ, Cass, it's just me!"

She froze, halfway to her feet. "Hancock?"

"Who else?" He pressed a hand to his chest where she nailed him. She could put a surprising amount of power into a hit when she wanted to. "Remind me to stay outta swingin' distance next time."

"Oh, fuck, Hancock, I'm sorry," she stammered apologetically. "You scared the shit out of me. Are you okay?"

She started to reach out to help him up, but hesitated. Her eyes were wide with concern—a refreshing change from the daggers she'd been staring at him lately—but there was wariness there too.

"I'll live."

Her breath came out in a slow exhale. He wasn't sure if that meant relief, or frustration, or some combination of the two. She dropped her hand and eased back onto the couch, hugging her knees to her chest. The gesture was childlike, almost… like something a little girl might do. Especially with the fading adrenaline sending visible tremors through her frame.

"Must've been some nightmare," he remarked at length.

"... Yeah," she agreed softly. "Yeah, it was."

She went quiet after that. Hancock hesitated for a minute or two, uncertain of what to do. The curious part of him wanted to ask what she had cooked up to unnerve her like that. A little twisted, maybe, but true. That would almost certainly be the wrong choice, though, so what was he supposed to do? Did he stay? Leave? Leaving would be the easier option. Dealing with something like this felt a little out of his depth… and he was probably the last person Cass wanted around.

Nick was good at this sort of thing though. It was part of his job. Hancock could charm a crowd and sweettalk with the best of them, but Nick was the one with a talent for comforting people. If he could console the grieving, worried, or angry denizens of Diamond City on a regular basis, then helping Cass shake off a nightmare would be a piece of cake.

With that thought, he got to his feet to go grab the old synth. Cass had other ideas. She startled him when she reached forward suddenly to grab the cuff of his sleeve, pulling him to a stop.

"Hancock, wait."

He paused, not bothering to hide his surprise. "Yeah?"

"Would you… would you mind hanging out, for just a bit?"

He was so taken aback by her request that he didn't answer immediately. Not that he minded, necessarily, but last he checked she still wanted to knock his lights out. Now she was asking him to comfort her?

"I can understand if you don't want to," she continued, speaking quickly. "It's just…" She stopped and shook her head. "No. You know what, never mind. Forget it."

He wavered, confused. What the hell did she want from him? "I can go grab Nick…?"

"Just forget about it, forget I asked." Her voice was getting harder now, more defensive. "You didn't sign up for this. Neither of you did. I'll just… deal. I'll be fine."

Well, great. Now she was pissed again and he had no idea why.

As soon as he had the thought, though, he knew it wasn't true. A spike of insight hit him like he'd crunched down on some mentats: _She's embarrassed, not mad, you idiot._

Once that thought struck him, he could see the way her shoulders hunched, the suggestion of reddened cheeks in the candlelight. He remembered that Cass didn't like asking for help. And now she was not only asking for help, but she was scared, vulnerable, and probably not thrilled that he was one of only two options. Hell, if he'd been in her place he would've been touchy too.

So after a moment he dropped down next to her, arms draping casually over the back of the couch.

She looked over at him warily. "I said don't worry about it."

"I'm not exactly great at this sorta thing," he said, ignoring her protest. "So… do you wanna talk about it?"

"… No."

Fine by him. "Okay."

She frowned, but it looked more puzzled than angry. "Why are you doing this?"

He shrugged. "Because you asked. Or was there some kinda secret message I wasn't getting?"

"No, but…"

"But you'd still like to kick my ass," he suggested bluntly.

She blinked. "Well, yeah."

He nodded. "Yeah, Nick mighta mentioned that I owe you an apology, once or twice." He rubbed the back of his head. "Probably a hell of a time to do that… but I am sorry, doll. For what I said before. I was outta line."

She arched an eyebrow at him. "No shit. What was your first clue?"

"You chuckin' a chair across the room was a pretty decent indicator."

He could see her cheeks darken, but she kept his gaze. "What can I say? I don't appreciate it when a man lies just so he can get me in the sack."

He sat up a little, defensive. "Wait, that's what you think I was doing?"

"Well, let's recap," she retorted, voice clipped. She held up her fingers and begin ticking things off. "You pried my story out of me in Goodneighbor; you let me think you believed me… or at the very least, that you didn't _disbelieve_ me; we fucked; and only then did you have the goddamn gall to tell me that my life—my ENTIRE fucking life—is nothing but a made-up fairy tale." She crossed her arms then, glaring at him. "Your words, by the way. In case you forgot."

He couldn't help but wince. "That might've been a little harsh-"

" _A little_ harsh?! You called me crazy!"

"I didn't-"

"The word 'crazy' _literally_ came out of your mouth."

"Okay, okay, enough already!" Hancock interjected, palms up. "I'm an ass, I get the picture. It was a shitty choice of words." He sighed and ran a hand over his face. "… Okay, so maybe you're right. It is hard to believe you're not some kind of preprogrammed synth."

"Then why humor me if you weren't just trying to get on my good side?" she demanded, jumping in so quick she nearly cut off the end of his sentence. "And don't give me any bullshit about thinking I'm not strong enough to take it-"

"Christ, you are a difficult person to apologize to, anyone ever tell you that?" he snapped. She stopped and stared at him, eyes wide, but at least she was quiet. "I didn't push the issue at the time because I didn't see a reason to, alright? I figured you had enough goin' on as it was, and eventually you'd figure your shit out one way or another." He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, reining his temper back in. "I'm not gonna pretend like there aren't times that I listen to you talk about the things you remember, or hum along to songs I've never heard, and it doesn't feel like something really might've plucked you outta where you belong to throw you into our mess out here. But then I try to think about how that could've happened, and I ain't smart enough to come up with a way that makes any sense."

"You think it makes any more sense to me?" she asked. Her voice was still hard, but her expression had begun to soften just a little bit. "I never asked you to give me any answers, Hancock, but I did expect you to be upfront with me."

He raised his brows at her. "Really? Is 'upfront' what you'd call sneakin' off in the middle of the night without a word?"

She opened her mouth to reply, but nothing came out. After a moment she looked down and away, her hand automatically coming up to tug at her hair.

"Well, fuck," she said after a moment. "Okay. Touché, I guess." She looked back at him determinedly. "But that's still not as bad as both insulting my sanity and dismissing my entire existence up to this point."

 _Is she ever gonna let this go?_ He leaned forward, propping his elbows on his knees. He would've pinched the bridge of his nose is he still had one. "I know I run my mouth, doll. I said what I did because I don't want you breakin' your own heart." He stared down at his boots, suddenly a lot more uncomfortable than he had been seconds before… if that was possible. "I like ya, doll. Would be a shame to watch you chasin' something you never end up finding."

Cass sat very still, taking in his words. She didn't say anything for so long that he began to wonder if he'd fucked up again. And why did that matter to him, anyway? Cass had brought nothing but trouble since he met her. He should've cut her loose days ago, and yet he was sitting there damn near fidgeting because she hadn't said anything.

"Well, I guess if that's it…" he muttered. _Fuckin' women. Can't live with 'em…_

He started to get up until Cass lightly touched his shoulder.

"I know it's a long shot," she said. If there had been any anger left in her, it was gone now. Now she just looked tired, and sad, and he wasn't certain that was any better. "Fuck, it's probably even impossible. I know that, I do… But I gotta keep hoping I'll eventually find a way back."

She blinked too fast and too hard, and he caught the shine of tears in her eyes. Damn it, he hadn't meant to make her cry. That was almost worse than her being pissed.

"Shit, doll, I didn't mean to-"

"Every second of every day reminds me that I don't belong here," she continued, like she hadn't heard him. "I don't have anything here, and I hate that. I don't have a home, no family, no history… I'd never even been farther east than the Sierras. Hoping that I can somehow make it back is literally all I have left, and I just can't let you or anyone else try to take that away from me." Her voice started to get thick; she stubbornly cleared her throat and scrubbed at her eyes. "It just really fucking sucks, you know?"

He didn't have a response to that. What could he say? "Sorry" didn't seem to cut it. He hadn't even paused to consider what that might have meant for her… the hope of going back, of fixing everything. Everyone needs something to keep them going in the wasteland and he'd tried his best to tear down hers without even realizing it.

But what do you say to someone who's entire life has gone up in flames? He didn't have a magical solution he could pull out of his ass for her, much as he would've liked to. There was no expression of sympathy or solidarity he could think of that wouldn't sound empty or fake. But she was sitting there, very obviously trying not to cry, and damn it he couldn't just do nothing. So after a moment he sighed, and reached out for her.

"C'mere," he muttered, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and tucking her against his side. She must've needed the comfort a lot more than she was letting on, because she only resisted for a quick second before giving in. "You got friends, if nothing else. Me included."

She snorted faintly, and her voice was still a little watery when she asked, "Just gonna assume you're forgiven, huh?"

He gave her a light squeeze. "Call it a hunch."

"Cocky bastard." She curled against his side, head resting in the hollow between his neck and shoulder. A beat later she added, "Thank you, though. For apologizing… and for staying."

"Anytime." He glanced down at her, and a smirk tugged at his mouth. "And by the way… I wasn't humorin' ya to get you to sleep with me. I could've gotten you into bed weeks ago."

She groaned. "Glad to see your ego's intact. Newsflash: you're not _that_ charming."

"That blush you got begs to differ."

She shifted, ducking her head a little, and jabbed him lightly with her elbow. "Okay, Don Juan. You keep telling yourself that, if it'll help you sleep at night."

He chuckled. She nestled closer still against him, hugging him around the waist and letting her eyes drop closed. Soon her breathing began to slow. He eased his arm from her shoulders to curl around her hip; he let his thumb brush against the strip of bared skin there, between her shirt and her waistband. God, her skin was so soft…

Cass hummed drowsily. "Don't go getting any funny ideas, Mr. Mayor."

He grinned, even though she wasn't looking. "Wouldn't dream of it."


End file.
